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THE 


LIBERTY GIRL 


RENA HALSEY 

Author of “Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer*’ 
and “America’s Daughter” 


UXUSTRATED BY NANA FRENCH BICKFORD 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP. LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


Published, August, 1919 



Copyright, 1919 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 
All rights reserved 
THE LIBERTY GIRL 


[>.i:yiy 


‘noTwood ptees 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
NORWOOD, MASS. 

U. S. A. 


(g)CI.A529844 


INSCRIBED, 

WITH DEEP APPRECIATION, 

TO 

THE SONS OF LIBERTY,— 

ALL THOSE SOLDIERS, SEAMEN, AND AIRMEN, 
WHO HAVE HEROICALLY GIVEN OF 
THEIR BEST FOR THE 
BROTHERHOOD 
OF MAN 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

God Speed You ” . . . . 


PAGE 

II 

II 

Giving Her Best .... 


28 

III 

The Liberty Girls .... 


46 

IV 

The Liberty Garden . 


60 

V 

The Liberty Pageant . 


73 

VI 

The Strange Letter . 


89 

VII 

The Visit to Camp Mills . 


106 

VIII 

Seven Pillars 


121 

IX 

The Little Old Lady in the 
House 

Red 

133 

X 

The Sweet-Pea Ladies 


147 

XI 

The Ride Through the Notch 


164 

XII 

Nathalie’s Liberty Boys . 


179 

XIII 

The Mountains with the Snowy 
Foreheads ” 

194 

XIV 

Sons of Liberty ”... 


211 

XV 

The Gallery of the Gods 


222 

XVI 

Butternut Lodge .... 


238 

XVII 

The Cabin on the Mountain 


256 

XVIII 

The Liberty Cheer 


275 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIX “The White Comrade” .... 288 

XX The Liberty Tea 302 

XXI The Funnies 322 

XXII The Man in the Woods .... 334 

XXIII A Mystery Solved 348 

XXIV The Winner of the Prize . . . 362 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Ah there, girls ! 

II) 


How are you? ” (Page 

Frontispiece 


y 


“ My name is Liberty, 

My throne is Law ” ^ 

** Is that your dog? Oh, I love dogs! . . . 184 ^ 

The girl found herself gazing into the sun-tanned 

face of a young man in khaki 232 ix' 


. 260 


Nathalie bent over in anxious solicitude 
“Oh, it is Philip, my son!’’ . . . 


376 



i 

4 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


CHAPTER I 

“ GOD SPEED YOU '' 

Nathalie, I do believe there’s Grace Tyson 
in her new motor-car,” exclaimed Helen 
Dame, suddenly laying her hand on her com- 
panion’s arm as the two girls were about to cross Main 
Street, the wide, tree-lined thoroughfare of the old- 
fashioned town of Westport, Long Island. 

Nathalie Page halted, and, swinging about, peered 
intently at the brown-uniformed figure of a young girl 
seated at the steering-wheel of an automobile, which 
was speeding quickly towards them. 

Yes, it was Grace, who, in her sprightliest manner, 
her face aglow from the invigorating breezes of an 
April afternoon, called out, Ah there, girls ! How 
are you? Oh, my lucky star must have guided me, 
for I have something thrilling to tell you ! ” As she 
spoke the girl guided the car to the curb, and the next 
moment, with an airy spring, had landed on the ground 
at their side. 


11 


12 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


With a sudden movement the uniformed figure 
clicked her heels together and bent stiffly forward as 
her arm swung up, while her forefinger grazed her 
forehead in a military salute. “ I salute you, com- 
rades,’' she said with grave formality, “ at your service 
as a member of the Motor Corps of America. 

‘‘ Yes, girls,” she shrilled joyously, forgetting her 
assumed role in her eagerness to tell her news, “ I’m on 
the job, for I’m to see active service for the United 
States government. I’ve just returned from an in- 
fantry drill of the Motor Corps at Central Park, New 
York. 

No, I’ll be honest,” she added laughingly, in answer 
to the look of amazed inquiry on the faces of her com- 
panions, and ‘ fess ’ that I didn’t have the pleasure of 
drilling in public, for I’m a raw recruit as yet. We re- 
cruits go through our manual of arms at one of the 
New York armories, drilled by a regular army ser- 
geant. Oh, I’ve been in training some time, for you 
know I took out my chauffeur’s and mechanician’s^State 
licenses last winter. 

^^■‘^'One has to own her car at this sort of government 
work,” — Grace’s voice became inflated with impor- 
tance, — and be able to make her own repairs on the 
road if necessary. But isn’t my new car a Jim 
Dandy ? ” she asked, glancing with keen pride at the big 
gray motor, purring contentedly at the curb. It was 
a belated Christmas gift from grandmother. 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


13 


“ But I tell you what, girls,” she rattled on, “ Pve 
been put through the paces all right, but Pve passed my 
exams with flying colors. Phew ! wasn’t the physical 
exam stiff! — before a regular high official of the 
army medical corps. I was inoculated for typhoid, 
and for pare typhoid. Til secretly confess that I don’t 
know what the last word means. Yes, and I took the 
oath of allegiance to the United States Government, ad- 
ministered by another army swell, — and that’s where 
my Pioneer work proved O. K. And then we had the 
First Aid course, too, at St. Luke’s. The head nurse, 
who gave us special lessons in bandaging, said I was 
A No. I ; and in wigwagging, oh, I did the two-flag 
business just dandy.” 

“ But what is your special work?” asked Nathalie, 
for the two girls were somewhat surprised and bewil- 
dered by all these high-sounding, official-like terms. 
To be sure, Grace had long been known as an expert 
driver, but she had never shown her efficiency in any 
way but by giving the girls joy-rides once in a while ; 
yes, and once she had driven her father to New York. 

But war work, thought Nathalie, for this aristo- 
cratic-looking, sweet-faced young girl, whose eyes 
gleamed merrily at you from under the peaked army 
cap — with its blue band and the insignia of the Corps, 
a tire surmounted by Mercury’s wings — set so jaunt- 
ily on the fluffy hair. To be sure the slim, trim figure 
in the army jacket, short skirt over trousers, and high 


14 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


boots did have a warlike aspect, but it was altogether 
too girlish and charming to be suggestive of anything 
but a toy soldier, like one of the tiny painted tin things 
that Nathalie used to play with when a wee tot. 

Do? Why, I am a military chauffeur,” returned 
Grace patronizingly, “ and in the business of war-relief 
work for the Government. At present I’m to act as 
chauffeur to one of our four lieutenants. Miss Gladys 
Merrill. Oh, she’s a dear! I have to drive her all 
over the city when she is engaged on some Government 
errand. You should see me studying the police maps, 
and then you would know what I do. Sometimes we 
are called to transport some of the army officers from 
the railroad station to the ferry, or to headquarters. 
Then we do errands for the Red Cross, too. 

Why, the other day I helped to carry a lot of 
knitted things down on the pier, to be packed in a ship 
bound for the other side ; they were for the soldiers at 
the front. We do work for the National Defense, and 
for the Board of Exemption. I’m doing my ‘ bit,’ 
even if it is a wee one, towards winning the war,” 
ended the girl, with a note of satisfaction in her voice. 

O dear, but wouldn’t I like to drive an ambulance 
in France! But I’ve got to be twenty-one to do that 
sort of work,” — the girl sighed. “ But did I tell you 
that brother Fred is doing American Field Service? I 
had a letter from him yesterday, and he said that he and 
a lot of American boys have established a little encamp- 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


15 


ment of ambulances not far from the front-line trench. 
They live in what was once a chateau belonging to 
Count Somebody or Another, but now it is nothing but 
a shell. 

Oh, Fred thinks it is glorious fun,” cried the girl, 
with sparkling eyes. “ He has to answer roll-call at 
eight in the morning, and then he eats his breakfast at 
a little cafe near. He has just black bread, — think of 
that, coffee, and, yes, sometimes he has an egg. Then 
he has to drill, clean his car, and — oh, but he says it^s 
a great sight to see the aeroplanes constantly flying 
over his head, like great monsters of the air. And 
sometimes he goes wild with excitement when he sees 
an aerial battle between a Boche and a French airman. 

** Yes, he declares it is ‘ some ’ life over there,” ani- 
matedly continued Grace, “ for even his rest periods are 
thrilling, for they have to dodge shells, and sometimes 
they burst over one’s head. Several times he thought 
he was done for. And at night the road near the 
chateau is packed with hundreds of marching guns, 
trucks of ammunition, and war supplies and cavalry, 
all on their way to the front. 

** But when he goes in his ambulance after the 
blesses — they are the poor wounded soldiers — it is 
just like day, for the sky is filled with star-shells 
shooting around him in all colors, and then there is a 
constant cannonading of shells and shot of all kinds. 
When he hears a purr he knows it’s a Boche plane and 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


i6 

dodges pretty lively, for if he doesn’t ‘ watch out ’ a 
machine-gun comes sputtering down at him. He’s 
awfully afraid of them because they drop bombs. 

“ But he says it would make your heart ache to see 
him when he carries the blesses. He has to drive 
them from the posies de sec ours — the aid-stations — 
to the hospitals. He has to go very slowly, and even 
then you can hear the poor things groan and shriek 
with the agony of being moved. And sometimes,” 
Grace lowered her voice reverently, when he goes to 
take them out of the ambulance he finds a dead sol- 
dier. 

But dear me,” she continued in a more cheerful 
tone, “ he seems to like the life and is constantly hop- 
ing — I believe he dreams about it in his sleep — that 
he’ll soon have a shot at one of those German fiends. 
Yes, I think it would be gloriously exciting,” ended 
Grace with a half sigh of envy. 

‘‘Gloriously exciting?” repeated Nathalie with a 
shudder. “ Oh, Grace, I should think you would be 
frightfully worried. Suppose he should lose his life 
some time in the darkness of the night, alone with 
those wounded soldiers? O dear,” she ended drearily, 
“ I just wish some one would shoot or kill the Kaiser! 
Sometimes I wish I could be a Charlotte Corday. 
Don’t you remember how she killed Murat for the sake 
of the French? ” 

“ Why, Nathalie,” cried Helen with amused eyes. 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


17 


“ I thought you were a pacifist, and here you are talk- 
ing of shooting people.” And the girl's ” Ha ! ha ! ” 
rang out merrily. 

Nathalie's color rose in a wave as she cried decid- 
edly, “ Helen, Fm not a pacifist. Of course I want 
the x\llies to win. I believe in the war — only — only 
— I do not think it is necessary to send our boys across 
the sea to fight.” 

‘‘ But I do,” insisted Helen, for this is God’s war, 
a war to give liberty to everybody in the world, and 
that makes it onr war. We should be willing to fight, 
to give the rights and privileges of democracy to other 
people, and our American boys are not slackers who 
let some one else do their work.” 

Our boys! You mean my hoy,” said Nathalie, 
with sudden bitterness. “ It’s all right for you to talk, 
Helen, but you haven’t a brother to go and stand up 
and be mercilessly bayoneted by those Boches. And 
that is what Dick will have to do.” Nathalie choked 
as she turned her head away. 

“ Yes, Nathalie dear,” replied Helen in a softened 
tone, I know it is a terrible thing to have to give up 
your loved ones to be ruthlessly shot down. But what 
are we going to do?” she pleaded desperately, “we 
must do what is right and leave the rest to God, for, as 
mother says, ‘ God is in his Heaven.’ And Dick 
wants to go,” she ended abruptly, “ he told me so the 
other day.” 


i8 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“Yes, that is just it,” cried Nathalie in a pitifully 
small voice, “ and he says that he is not going to wait 
to be drafted. Oh, Helen, mother and I cannot sleep 
at night thinking about it! ” Nathalie turned her face 
away, her eyes dark and sorrowful. No, she did not 
mean to be a coward, but it just rent her heart to pic- 
ture Dick going about armless, or a helpless cripple 
shuffling along, with either she or Dorothy leading him. 

“ Oh, I would like to be a Joan of Arc,” interposed 
Grace at this point, her blue eyes suddenly afire. “ I 
think it would be great to ride in front of an army on a 
white charger. And then, too,” she added more seri- 
ously, “ I think it takes more bravery to fight than to 
do anything else.” 

“ Perhaps it does, Grace,” remarked Helen slowly, 
“ but when it comes to heroism, I think the mothers 
who give their boys to be slaughtered for the good of 
their fellow-beings are the bravest — ” The girl 
paused quickly, for she had caught sight of Nathalie’s 
face, and remorsefully felt that what she had just 
said only added to her friend’s distress. “ But, girls,” 
she went on in a brighter tone, “ I have something to 
tell you. I’m going to France to do my ‘ bit,’ for I’m 
to be stenographer to Aunt Dora. We expect to sail 
in a month or so. You know that she is one of the 
officials in the Red Cross organization.” 

There were sudden exclamations of surprise from 
the girl’s two companions, as they eagerly wanted to 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


19 


know all about her unexpected piece of news. As 
Helen finished giving the details as to how it had all 
come about, she exclaimed, with a sudden look at her 
wrist-watch : “ Goodness ! Girls, do you know it is 

almost supper-time? Tm just about starved.’' 

“ Well, jump into the car, then,” cried Grace Tyson, 
“ and I’ll have you home in no time.” Her compan- 
ions, pleased at the prospect of a whirl in the new car, 
gladly accepted her invitation, and a few minutes later 
were speeding towards the lower end of the street 
where Helen and Nathalie lived. 

After bidding her friends good-by, Nathalie, with a 
trii-al-lee, the call-note of their Pioneer bird-group, ran 
lightly up the steps of the veranda. Yes, Dick was 
home, for he was standing in the hall, lighting the gas. 
With a happy little sigh she opened the door. 

“ Hello, sis,” called out Dick cheerily, — a tall well- 
formed youth, with merry blue eyes, — as he caught 
sight of the girl in the door-way. Have you been on 
a hike?” 

‘‘ Oh, no, just an afternoon at Mrs. Van Vorst’s. 
Nita had a lot of the girls there — ” Nathalie stopped, 
for an expression, a sudden gleam in her brother’s eyes, 
caused her heart to give a wild leap. She drew in her 
breath sharply, but before the question that was form- 
ing could be asked, Dick waved the still flaming match 
hilariously above his head as he cried, Well, sister 
mine. I’ve taken the plunge, and I’ve come off on top, 


20 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

for I’ve joined the Flying Corps, and I’m going to be an 
army eagle ! ” 

‘‘Flying Corps?” repeated Nathalie dazedly. 
“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean. Blue Robin, that I’m going to be an avia- 
tor, a sky pilot,” replied the boy jubilantly. “ I made 
an application some time ago to the chief signal officer 
at Washington. I was found an eligible applicant, for, 
you know, my course in the technical school in New 
York did me up fine. To-day I passed my physical 
examinations, and am now enlisted in the Signal Corps 
of the Signal Enlisted Reserve Corps. Fm off next 
week to the Military Aeronautics School at Princeton 
University. It’s an eight-weeks’ course. If I put it 
over, — and you bet your life I do,” Dick ground his 
teeth determinedly, — “ I go into training at one of the 
Flying Schools, and then I’ll soon be a regular bird 
of the air; and if I don’t help Uncle Sam win the war, 
and manage to drop a few bombs on those Fritzies, I’ll 
go hang! ” 

For one awful moment Nathalie stood silent, staring 
at her brother in dumb despair. Then she turned, and 
with a blur in her eyes and a tightening of her throat, 
blindly groped for the stairway. But no! Dick’s 
hand shot out, he caught the hurrying figure in his 
grasp, and the next moment Nathalie was sobbing on 
his breast. 

“ That’s all right, little sis,” exclaimed the boy with a 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


21 


break in his voice, as he pressed the brown head closer. 
Then he cried, in an attempt at jocularity, “ Just get it 
all out of your system, every last drop of that salted 
brine, Blue Robin, and then we’ll talk business.” 

This somewhat matter-of-fact declaration acted like 
a cold shower-bath on the girl, as, with a convulsive 
shiver, she caught her breath, and although she bur- 
rowed deeper into the snug of her brother’s arm her 
tears were stayed. 

‘‘ Dick, how could you do iff Think of mother? ” 
Then she raised her eyes, and went on, ‘‘ Oh, I can’t 
bear the thought of your getting ki — ” But the girl 
could not say the dreaded word, and again her head 
went down against the rough gray of Dick’s coat. 

‘‘ Well, Blue Robin, I’m afraid you have lost that 
cheery little tru-al-lee of yours,” teased the boy humor- 
ously. “ You’ve cried so hard you’re eye-twisted. In 
the first place, I don’t intend getting killed if I can 
help it. And I can’t help leaving mother. You must 
remember I’m a citizen of the United States — ” the 
boy was thinking of his first vote cast the fall before — 
and I am bound by my oath of allegiance to the coun- 
try to uphold its principles, even if it means the break- 
ing of my mother’s apron-strings,” he added jokingly. 

Oh, Dick, don’t try to be funny,” Nathalie man- 
aged to say somewhat sharply, as she drew away from 
her brother’s arm and dropped limply on the steps of 
the stairs, in such an attitude of hopeless despair that 


22 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Dick was at the end of his tether to know what to say. 
He stared down at the girl, unconsciously rubbing his 
hand through his hair, a trick the boy had when per- 
plexed. 

Suddenly a bit of a smile leaped into his eyes as he 
cried, in a hopelessly resigned tone, “ All right, sis, see- 
ing that you feel this way about it Fll just send in my 
resignation. It will let the boys know Lve laid down 
on my job, for if you and mother are going to howl like 
two cats, a fellow can’t do a thing but stay at home and 
be a sissy, a baby-tender, a dish-washer-er-er — ” 

Oh, Dick, don’t talk nonsense,” broke in Nathalie 
sharply. “ I didn’t say that you were not to go, but, 
— why — oh, I just can’t help feeling awfully bad 
when I read all those terrible things in the paper.” 
Her voice quivered pathetically as she finished. 

Well, don’t read them, then,” coolly rejoined Dick. 

Just steer clear of all that hysterical gush and brace 
up. My job is to serve my country, — she wants me. 
By Jove, before she gets out of this hole she’ll need 
every mother’s son of us. And I’ve got to do it in the 
best way I can, by enlisting before the draft comes. 
I’ll not only have a chance to do better work, a pros- 
pect of quicker promotion, but, if you want to look at 
the sordid end of it. I’ll get more pay. And as to be- 
ing killed, as you wailed, if you and mother will insist 
upon seeing it black, an aviator’s chance of life is ten 
to one better — if he’s on to his job — than that of the 


‘‘ GOD SPEED YOU ’’ 


23 


fellow on the ground. So cheer up, Blue Robin. I’m 
all beat hollow, for I’ve been trying to cheer up mother 
for the last hour.” 

“ Oh, what does mother say? ” asked a very faint 
voice, just as if the girl did not know how her mother 
felt, and had been feeling for some time. 

“ Say ! Gee whiz ! I don’t know what she would 
have said if she had voiced her sentiments,” replied 
Dick resignedly. But the worst of the whole busi- 
ness was that she took it out in weeping about a tank 
of tears ; all over my best coat, too,” he added ruefully. 
“ You women are enough to make a fellow go stiff. 

“ Now see here, Blue Robin, don’t disappoint me ! ” 
suddenly cried the lad, as he stared appealingly into his 
sister’s brown eyes. “ Why, I thought that you would 
be my right-hand man. I knew mother would make a 
time at first, but you , — I thought you had grit; you, 
a Pioneer, too. Don’t you know, girl — ” added Dick, 
rubbing the back of his hand quickly across his eyes, 
that I’ve got to go? Don’t you forget that. I’m on 
the job, every inch of it, but, thunderation. I’m no more 
keen to go ‘ over there ’ and have those Hun devils cut 
me up like sausage, than you or mother. But I’m a 
man and I’ve got to live up to the business of being a 
man, and not a mollycoddle.” 

But Nathalie had suddenly come to her senses. Per- 
haps it was the brush of the boy’s hand across his eyes, 
or the quivering note in his voice, but she roused. She 


24 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


had been selfish; instead of crying like a ninny she 
should have cheered. “ Oh, Dick,” she exclaimed con- 
tritely, standing up and facing him suddenly, “ I’m all 
wrong. I didn’t mean to cry, and I wouldn’t have 
either,” she explained excusingly, '' if you had only let 
me go up-stairs. 

“ No, Dick, I would not have you be a slacker, or a 
mollycoddle, or wash the dishes,” she added with a 
faint attempt at a smile, and we haven’t any babies 
to tend. Yes, old boy, I don’t want you to lie down in 
the traces, so let’s shake on it, and I’ll try to brace up 
mother, too,” added the girl, as she held out her hand 
to her brother. 

“ Now that’s the stuff, Nat, old girl,” cried the boy 
with gleaming eyes, as he took the girl’s hand and held 
it tightly, and while I’m fighting to uphold the fam- 
ily honor and glory, — remember father was a Rough 
Rider, — you stay with dear old mumsie. Keep her 
cheered up, and see that everything is made easy for 
her. Do all you can to take my place here at home. 
Yes, Blue Robin, you be the home soldier. Gee whiz, 
you be the home guard ! ” added the boy in a sudden 
burst of inspiration. 

“ The home guard! Yes, that’s what I’ll be,” cried 
the girl, her eyes lighting with a sudden glow. And 
then I’ll be doing my bit, won’t I? I’ll cheer up 
mother, and do all I can,” she added resolutely ; “ and 
don’t worry any more, Dick, for now,” — the girl drew 


“ GOD SPEED YOU ” 


25 


a long breath, I’ll be on the job as well as you.” 

And then Nathalie, with a wave of her hand at the 
boy as he stood gazing up at her with his eyes fired 
with loyal determination, hurried up the stairs, straight 
on and up to the very top of the house to her usual 
weeping-place, for, oh, those hateful tears would not 
be restrained, and if she did not have her cry out she 
would strangle ! 

Ah, here she was in her den, the attic. Dimly she 
reached out her hand and pulled the little wooden 
rocker out from the wall and slumped into it, and a 
minute later, with her face buried in the fold of her 
arm, as it rested on the little sewing-table, she was 
weeping unrestrainedly. 

Presently she gave a sudden start, raised her head 
and listened, and then was on her feet, for, oh, that 
was her mother’s step, — she was coming up after her. 
Oh, why hadn’t she waited until she had a hold on 
herself. The next moment the little wooden door with 
the padlock opened, and Mrs. Page was standing in the 
doorway gazing down at her. 

“ Why — oh, mother ! ” Nathalie cried in surprise 
and wonder, for her mother was smiling. The girl’s 
eyes bulged out from her tear-stained face in such a 
funny way that her mother broke into a little laugh. 
Then her face sobered and she came slowly towards 
her. 

“ No, daughter mine, mother is not weeping. Yes, 


26 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


I heard what you and Dick said, and you are patriots, 
and have shamed mother into trying to be one, too.” 
Mrs. Page took the girl in her arms with tender af- 
fection. 

“ And Dick is a dear lad. Oh, Nathalie, in our 
grief at the thought of parting with him, — perhaps 
of losing him, — ” her voice weakened slightly, we 
have forgotten that he has been fighting a greater bat- 
tle than we. 

It is surely a great thing,” continued Mrs. Page 
sadly, for a young man in the buoyancy of youth 
and the very heyday of life, to give it all up. For 
youth clings more tenaciously to life than older people 
do, for to them it is an untried and shining pathway, 
flowered with hope, anticipation, and the luring glim- 
mer of unfulfilled aims and ambitions. 

“ And then to have to face about,” her voice lowered, 
“ and silently struggle with one’s self in the great bat- 
tle of self-abnegation, to end by taking this glorious 
life and casting it far behind you, — this is what makes 
a hero. Then to face the dread ordeal of a battle- 
field, and go steadily forward, buoyed only with a feel- 
ing of bravery, — the heroism of doing what you be- 
lieve to be right, — and, taking your one chance for 
life in your hands, — plunge into the unknown dark- 
ness and the horrifying perils of a No Man’s Land.” 

There was a stifled sob in Nathalie’s throat, but her 
mother went steadily on: “No, Nathalie, we must 


GOD SPEED YOU ” 


27 


not weep. We must smile and be cheerful. We must 
inspire Dick with courage and hope, and if it is meant 
that he is to give his life, we must let him go with a 
‘ God speed you,’ his memory starred with the thought 
of a mother’s love and a sister’s courage, and with the 
soul-stirring song of the victor over death. 

‘'And, Nathalie, Dick belongs to God; he was only 
loaned to me, — to you, — and if the time has come for 
God to call him home, we must not complain. We must 
gladly give him back. Then we must remember, too,” 
went on the patient mother-voice, " that, after all, life 
is not the mere living of it, but the things accom- 
plished for the betterment of those who come after. 
And if Dick has been ' on the job,’ ” Mrs. Page smiled, 
" no matter how small his share in this great warfare 
for the right, he will be the better prepared to enter into 
the Land where there is no more suffering, or horrible 
war, but just a glorious and eternal peace.” 

The last word was almost whispered, but, with re- 
newed effort, she said: "Now, Nathalie, let us be 
brave, as father would have had us, — the dear father, 
— and go down to Dick with a bright smile and in- 
spiring words of cheer.” Mrs. Page bent and kissed 
the girl lightly, but solemnly, on the forehead, and then 
she had turned and was making her way towards the 
door. 


CHAPTER II 


GIVING HER BEST 

“ As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.” 

N athalie sat in the big rocker on the veranda, 
sewing a star on a service-flag. Yes, as soon 
as Dick had gone to do his ‘‘ stunt,'’ as he called 
it, in the great warfare, — gone with all the honors of 
war, as his mother had laughingly declared as he kissed 
them a noisy good-by, — Nathalie had felt that it was 
incumbent upon her to sustain the honor of the family, 
and had run lightly up to the attic. Here, in the big 
piece-trunk she found a bundle of Turkey red, a bit of 
white, and then, after begging a snip of blue from 
Helen for the star, she had set to work. 

She was sure that star would not come off, for she 
had double-stitched into every angle and on every 
point. She held up the patriotic square, bordered 
with red, and sorrowfully stared at that one lone star, 
although a thrill of pride stirred at her heart and caused 
her eyes to beam. 

She must hang it up. And then she was busy tack- 
ing the little flag to a small staff, which she had fas- 
tened to the roof of the porch so it could be seen. 
28 


GIVING HER BEST 


29 


Ah, the wind had caught it, and it was waving in a 
salute to its many mates curling from the neighboring 
porches, and to the Red Cross insignias that starred a 
window here and there, ofttimes overshadowed by the 
graceful sweep of the Stars and Stripes. 

But Nathalie’s heart was still sore, for although she 
had given up Dick with as good a grace as she could 
muster, and had tried to show that she possessed the 
true American spirit, yet it did seem as if it was a 
needless sacrifice. With a sudden turn on her heel, 
the girl burst into a new patriotic air that she had 
heard somewhere, as if hoping that it would drive away 
the rebellious thoughts that jarred her attempt at 
cheer, and hurried into the kitchen. 

As Nathalie stepped to the window and stared care- 
lessly out, her eyes were caught by the gleam of yellow 
crocus and purple hyacinth as they peeped up at her 
from their beds of green. Somehow their flaunting 
colors reminded her of the spring blooms that used to 
nod so gayly to her from the flower-beds in her beauti- 
ful city home in the upper part of New York. 

She could hardly believe it was a year since her 
father’s death. The poignant grief she had suffered 
then again caused her eyes to fill with tears, and her 
mind dwelt upon the sorrowful circumstances sur- 
rounding her loss, the changes that had followed, in 
their financial losses, and the many sacrifices it had en- 
tailed. 


30 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


She again saw the sorrowful farewell to the first 
and only home she had ever known; she again felt the 
grief that came to her in the giving up of the many 
things that had made life so happy, — her schoolmates, 
her many enjoyments, and her hope of going to col- 
lege. She again experienced the dolefulness that had 
assailed her mother, her brother Dick, her younger 
sister, Dorothy, and herself, on their coming to the 
humble cottage home in Westport, the being asso- 
ciated with strangers, and the many people who at 
first had seemed so different from their city associates. 

Yes, there was the tree where she had found the nest 
of bluebirds. The girl’s eyes gleamed amusedly as she 
peered down the garden at the old cedar tree, and re- 
membered that she had called them blue robins, thus 
giving Dick an opportunity to nickname her. Blue 
Robin. 

Nathalie attempted to smile, but the thought of 
Dick’s going away aroused her slumbering grief, and 
once more the tears flowed silently down her cheeks. 
But she bravely brushed them away and went on with 
her reminiscences, — the remembrance of spraining her 
ankle up in the woods, and how it had led to her meet- 
ing Helen Dame, her next-door neighbor, and now 
her dearest friend. 

How lovely Grace Tyson had looked that day, and 
dear old Barbara with her near-sighted eyes, and the 
girls' favorite, Lillie Bell, with her gracious charm 


GIVING HER BEST 


31 


and dramatic poses. The girl smiled again as she re- 
membered Edith Whiton, the sport, and her harum- 
scarum oddities. Yes, they were all dear girls. And 
how glad she was that she had become a Pioneer, and 
a real blue robin, by joining the Blue Bird group. 

And what a dear Mrs. Morrow, the Pioneer di- 
rector, was that day the Pioneers called. Oh, that 
was the day the “ Mystic ” had passed. Who would 
have thought she would turn out to be Mrs. Van Vorst, 
who was so lovely. And that ride with Dr. Morrow 
to the big gray house, and then she mentally saw her- 
self, with that handkerchief over her eyes, talking to 
the Princess, Nita, the little hunchbacked girl. And 
what good friends they had become through those his- 
tory lessons ! 

The many useful things she had learned from the 
Pioneer hikes and crafts, and the joys she had ex- 
perienced from their many sports and activities had cer- 
tainly proved worth while. And the “ overcomes ” she 
had fought for by adopting the Pioneer motto, ‘‘ I can,’' 
had certainly meant something in her life. 

But they did have gloriously good times at Camp 
Laff-a-Lot at E^gle Lake, with the Boy Scouts, Miss 
Camphelia, Miss Dummy, and all the other good sports. 
Then, too, there was the surprise, on her return to 
learn the good that had come to Dick through the 
money so kindly loaned by Mrs. Van Vorst. Indeed, 
that one year had brought many new things into her 


32 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


life, for — O dear, there was all that silver to be 
cleaned ! For, now that her mother kept no maid, this 
duty, with many other menial tasks, had devolved upon 
Nathalie. Oh, how she hated that job! 

With a resigned air, however, she managed to carry 
the basket of silver from the sideboard to the kitchen- 
table, and then returned to the dining-room for the 
tea-service. After getting her cleaning cloths, her 
brushes, and the scouring-powder, with vigorous de- 
termination she began to rub and polish. 

But somehow everything acted aggravatingly mean, 
for she dropped the polish, and the powder flew all 
over; then she knocked the tray and the knives and 
forks clattered to the floor. O dear ! what ailed things 
anyway? And how her arms ached trying to polish 
those horrid tarnished stains on the teapot ! The 
tablewa.re had never seemed so obdurate, nor the means 
for making it bright so utterly ineffective. 

Oh, I guess I am the one who is ailing,” she ex- 
claimed glumly, as she suddenly realized that her mind 
was not on her task, and that the elation of playing at 
being a patriot had departed, with Dick evidently, 
leaving her as limp as a rag. Oh, it does seem such a 
shame that we had to get into that war — Nathalie 
bit off her thought like a thread, resolved not to let her 
mind dwell on that forbidden topic. But how angelic 
her mother had acted when Dick went. Well, she was 
a dear, anyway, so brave. But suppose he never 


GIVING HER BEST 


33 


should come back after all. Something suddenly 
seemed to snap in the girl’s breast, and down went her 
head on the tray, into a heap of powder, while a great 
sob strangled out of her throat. 

O horrors! Nathalie’s brown head bobbed up from 
the tray, not very serenely either, for she had heard a 
Step on the kitchen porch. Oh, Helen always came in 
that way I “ Where is my handkerchief? ” The girl 
grabbed desperately at something white lying on the 
tray, dimly seen through a blur of tears, and began to 
scrub her nose energetically with alas, not her hand- 
kerchief, but the powder-cloth with which she had been 
polishing the silver I “ Ah chee 1 Ah chee ! ” sneezed 
Nathalie again and again, while groping frenziedly, 
but blindly, for her handkerchief. She must have 
dropped it. And then Helen’s arms were around her, 
and she was kissing the flushed cheek. 

“ What’s struck you, honey girl ? ” she asked in that 
gentle way of hers. ‘‘ Have you got the influenza? 
But here’s a very necessary article at times, if that’s 
what you’re after,” she finished with a laugh, as she 
stooped and picked up Nathalie’s handkerchief from 
the floor. 

'‘Influenza? No,” blurted out Nathalie savagely, 
tortured to a pitch of desperation at her unfortunate 
predicament. “ I’ve been rubbing my nose with that 
dirty old piece of rag I clean the silver with. Serves 
me right, I suppose, for being such a fool as to cry 


34 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


when I should be ‘ on my job/ as Dick says/^ She 
shamefacedly tried to hide her red eyes from her 
friend’s keen gaze. 

“ Oh, well, it will do you good to cry, Nathalie, 
dear,’* advised Helen softly, as she stroked the brown 
head caressingly, “ for you were quite a heroine when 
Dick went away, so courageous and cheery. Mrs. 
Morrow says you are the nerviest Pioneer she knows.” 

‘‘ But I’m not,” confessed Nathalie honestly, ‘‘ in 
fact, I’m beginning to think that I’m a bluff. But any- 
way, I’m glad to get a bit of praise, something to warm 
me up, for I have felt like a congealed icicle for the 
last few days. Yes, I have smiled and smiled like the 
poor Spartan boy, while the fox of Grief was gnaw- 
ing a hole into my internals. That sounds like one of 
Lillie Bell’s dramatics, doesn’t it?” she smiled pa- 
thetically into her friend’s kindly eyes. 

But, Helen, you are a dear, anyway,” cried Natha- 
lie in a sudden burst of admiration for her tried and 
trusted friend, who was always such a stanch and 
timely comforter. “ And do you know,” she added, 
swinging about in her chair with the teapot in one 
hand and the despised polishing-cloth in the other, 
“ you grow better-looking every day. Oh, I think you 
are just lovely! ” 

I lovely ? ” mocked Helen, opening her eyes in sur- 
prise at this unexpected praise. “ Well, Blue Robin, 
what started you on that trail? You must have been 


GIVING HER BEST 


35 


kissing the Blarney Stone, for you are handing me out 
^ the stuff,’ as the boys say, for fair. Poor me, with 
a knob on my nose, a wide mouth, and green eyes — 
to call me lovely is a libel on the word.” 

Oh, Helen^our eyes are just lovely — every one 
says that, for they are so expressive,” retorted her 
friend loyally; “ and as for the knob on your nose, no 
one would know it was there if you weren’t constantly 
telling them about it. But I don’t care what you look 
like anyway,” she added determinedly, “ for I think 
you are a love of a friend. But when do you go to 
France?” she finished abruptly. 

I don’t quite know yet,” replied the girl; perhaps 
not until a month or so. But mother is brave about 
letting me go. She says it will be a fine experience for 
me, — as long as I don’t have to go ‘ over the top.’ 
Oh, you finished your service-flag! It’s a Jim 
Dandy I ” Helen plunged recklessly into another 
topic, again blaming herself for her trick of alluding 
to forbidden subjects, for she had seen Nathalie’s lips 
quiver as she said Over the top.” 

Yes, I finished it, and now the neighbors know 
where we stand, even if you consider me a pacifist,” 
said the girl a little defiantly. “ Well, perhaps I shall 
think differently some day,” with a quickly repressed 
sigh. 

“ Yes, and that day is coming very soon, too. Blue 
Robin,” rejoined Helen; for I’ll bet you a box of 


36 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


candy that you won’t be a pacifist after you hear Mrs. 
Morrow talk on liberty. Surely you haven’t forgot- 
ten that we are to go to a Liberty Tea at her house 
this afternoon? ” she inquired as she saw her friend’s 
face settle down into an expression of gloom. 

“ Oh, I don’t think I’ll go,” retorted Nathalie quickly, 
“ for I don't feel a bit Pioneery this morning, and then 
I have all this silver to clean.” 

But, Blue Robin,” returned her friend cheerily, 
“ Tm going to help you finish up that silver, and then 
I’m going home to dress for this afternoon. Then 
I’m coming over here and just make you go to that 
Liberty Tea with me. You know, Nathalie, it would 
be mean for you to desert Mrs. Morrow,” she added 
wisely, “ for you are the leader of the band and should 
help to entertain the girls.” 

Whereupon, Helen caught up one of Nathalie’s 
kitchen-aprons, and a few moments later the two girls 
were laughing and chatting in the best of spirits, as 
they rubbed and polished with youthful ardor, every 
bone and muscle keyed to its task. 

Yes, it was enlivening to be so warmly welcomed by 
her hostess, Nathalie decided, as she greeted her a 
little later in the afternoon, and her depression van- 
ished. And how perfectly lovely Mrs. Morrow looked 
in that blue gown; yes, it was just the color of her 
blue-gray eyes. Under the fascination of this lady’s 
charming personality Nathalie was soon flying about, 


GIVING HER BEST 


37 


showing the girls how to start sweaters, or to purl, as 
this task had been delegated to her by the director, who 
herself had taught Nathalie. 

When the tea was served it was Nathalie who oc- 
cupied the place of honor at the little tea-table, deco- 
rated with the United States flag, and who dispensed 
the dainty little china cups filled with what was pa- 
triotically called Liberty Tea in honor of the young 
ladies who had given it its name over a hundred years 
ago, and who the Pioneers had impersonated last year 
in their entertainment of “ Liberty Banners.” 

After the teacups had been removed, and one or two 
announcements of coming events had been made, Mrs. 
Morrow, with sudden gravity, said : 

“ W e have gathered here to-day, girls, to commemo- 
rate the Spirit of Liberty, the one great principle that 
has budded like Aaron’s rod, and brought forth other 
qualities as splendid and compelling as itself, as, for 
example, the principles represented in our national em- 
blem. The principle of humanity, which means living 
the Golden Rule by taking thought for your neighbor ; 
democracy, the equal rights of mankind, which in 
turn gives rise to justice, loyalty, and unity, — the prin- 
ciples that have not only given us that wonderful, 
mystical something called Americanism, but the prin- 
ciples that mean the Christianity of Christ.” 

After the girls had discussed the meaning of liberty 
and summed it up as standing for man’s right to self- 


38 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


expression, either by words or actions, and made it 
clear that it had to be governed by the law of self-con- 
trol, as too much freedom would mean license or law- 
lessness, Mrs. Morrow continued her little talk. 

Liberty is not something that sprang into being 
with the coming of the settlers to America, for it is as 
old as man himself ; but under the rule of king-ridden 
states it has been fighting its way through many long 
centuries, because the peoples of the Old World failed 
to grasp its meaning. 

“ Under the stimulus of the Reformation and the 
Revival of Learning, induced by the printing of the 
Bible and other books, the early comers to America, 
as they endeavored to worship God as they thought 
right, not only left the intolerant forms and bigoted 
narrowness of the Old World, but threw the first light 
on liberty by teaching man his right to freedom of the 
soul. The Pilgrims and Puritans were the Pioneers 
of liberty, for they not only gave us religious freedom, 
but, by establishing a government for and by the peo- 
ple without the aid of king or bishop, laid the corner- 
stone of a great commonwealth, and gave us demo- 
cratic liberty. 

“If you girls would make a study of the history of 
the Thirteen Colonies,” went on their director, “ you 
would learn that not only each Colony contributed to 
the principles embodied in every stripe, star, and color 
of our spangled banner, but that a universal love of 


GIVING HER BEST 


39 


freedom seems to have animated the settlers. Each 
individual group, to be sure, had its own peculiar be- 
lief, but, in the working-out of their cherished ideals 
and aspirations, liberty was the bone and sinew of 
every colony. 

‘‘ It was under the influence of these early settlers — 
the giving of their best to mankind in their struggles 
for freedom — that the ideals and beliefs of the New 
World were molded into higher and better institu- 
tions, purified and strengthened by a new significance. 
Their ideals and aspirations were essentially different 
from anything known before, — ideals peculiar to this 
soil, which were absolutely American, not only in re- 
ligious freedom, but in the institutions of local govern- 
ment and the union of all states into one, which gave 
rise to the United States of America. 

“Now we have come to the great subject of the 
hour, the war, and a question I have heard several of 
you girls ask, ‘ Why are we in the war? ’ ” 

Nathalie felt her face redden, and shifted uneasily 
in her seat. O dear ! she did wish she had not come. 
Of course the talk was very interesting, but still she 
didn’t want to think of this terrible war. 

“ I have heard it said,” pursued Mrs. Morrow, 
“ that we are in the war to avenge the sinking of the 
Lusitania, and that we must not allow the Germans to 
break the international law by killing our sailors and 
seamen. I have heard it said, too, that if they con- 


40 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


quered the Allies they would come over here and fight 
us. These are all sufficient reasons in a sense.” 

The lady paused, and then, with grave solemnity, 
said : And I have heard it put forth that we are 

in the war to maintain our national honor and in- 
tegrity. I think I hear some of you girls say, ' But 
we haven’t done any wrong ; we have kept neutral ; our 
principles are not involved.’ ” 

Nathalie’s eyes were aglow as she bent forward, and 
with parted lips anxiously awaited Mrs. Morrow’s 
reply to this question. 

“ Now that we realize the depth and grandeur of 
the principles given to us by the founders of this 
nation, and know that every time our flag is unfurled 
it tells the world that religious and democratic liberty 
were born on these shores of America, are we going 
back on these principles? Are we going to allow 
other nations to say that our principles are just in the 
flying of our colors, that they stand for nothing but 
self-praise and the nation’s glorification? 

“ No,” cried the lady with grave emphasis, by our 
love for our flag, by our love for our birth-land, by 
our reverence for the men who taught us these prin- 
ciples we swear to defend every time we hoist our 
colors, we must get into this war. We must prove 
that our flag is in the right place, and that we carry it 
in our hearts. We must strive to show with our 


GIVING HER BEST 


41 


soul’s might that we are living these principles by be- 
ing true to ourselves and to our nation’s honor, and 
carry our feelings into action. 

“ We must forget self, our desire for selfish ease 
and pleasure. We must align ourselves with the suf- 
fering masses of people across the sea, and help them 
to rid themselves of the iron-shod heel of one-man 
power. We must stand side by side with the Allies 
for humanity, democracy, and liberty. We must show 
the world that the so-called divine right of kings is a 
worn-out belief of savagery, and prove by the prin- 
ciples back of our flag, prove by the living of these 
principles, the sacredness of God’s heritage to man, 
the right of the world’s people to know, as we know, 
the principles that have made us the freest people in 
the world. 

“ Each one of you girls must not only do your bit, 
but must give of your best to your brothers and sis- 
ters over the sea. And if the best means the giving-up 
of those who are so dear to us, we must prove that 
we are true daughters of liberty, and send them forth 
cheerfully, to give freedom and liberty to the world.” 

There was an impressive silence, and then Mrs. 
Morrow’s voice broke into song. In another moment 
the girls had joined their voices with hers, and were 
loudly sounding forth the old-time tune and the well- 
beloved words: 


42 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 

With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. 
While God is marching on. 

“ He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 

He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat; 

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet; 
Our God is marching on I ” 

Later in the afternoon, as the girls hurried happily 
out from the white house on the corner, each one chat- 
ting merrily, intent on telling what she had done or 
intended to do for the war, Nathalie alone w^as silent, 
weighed down, as it were, by a strange sense of shame. 
Yes, she had been blindly selfish, and had failed to 
realize the momentousness of the great questions of 
the day. When she had been called upon, to give love 
and sympathy to her neighbors, the poor suffering 
masses of people over seas, she had selfishly turned her 
back to the call — she had failed to show herself a 
daughter of liberty. Why, she was not a patriot, — 
no, not even an American ; and in the spirit, if not in 
the letter, she had dishonored Dick, yes, and her 
father, who had always been so steadfast and true to 
everything that was American. 

That night Nathalie could not sleep, but tossed rest- 
lessly from side to side, as parts of Mrs. Morrow’s 
speech kept forcing themselves upon her memory. 
And just as she had succeeded in driving them away. 


GIVING HER BEST 


43 


and also the remorseful thought that she had not given 
her best, that she had failed to show greatness, the 
song the girls had sung that afternoon, with the luring, 
old-time air and the soul-stirring words, flashed with 
vivid distinctness : 

“ As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on/’ 

The girl sat up in bed, and in a crooning whisper 
hummed the whole verse through, repeating again and 
again, 

“ As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.” 

The beauty as well as the significance of the words 
had made their appeal. Christ had died to make men 
holy; she must give of her best to make men free. 
She must show herself great, but what could she do? 

But even as the question came, so flashed the an- 
swer, and Nathalie was again softly humming, 

“Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet; 
Our God is marching on.” 

And then suddenly a thought stamped itself upon 
her mind. The girl caught her breath. Yes, she had 
given Dick up because she had been forced to do so, 
but now she would make the sacrifice, give the best of 
herself ; she would stop once and forever all useless 
repining. She would keep herself cheered by the 


44 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


thought that she was glad — she gritted her teeth de- 
terminedly — that she had Dick to give to help make 
people free. 

Yes, but she must do something — she must give her 
best; no, it might not be anything very great or big, 
but she must show she was a true daughter of liberty. 
Ah, she knew what she could do, and then Nathalie 
fell back on her pillow, and although she lay very still, 
her brain was alert, thinking and planning. Yes, she 
could get the girls together ; she would begin the very 
next morning. She would have every one in it, for 
liberty wouldn’t be liberty unless it was free to all. 
And then one thought and another kept popping into 
her mind, until finally the tired brain went on a strike 
and refused to register any more thoughts, and Na- 
thalie, without a word of protest, tumbled into the 
land o’ dreams. 

The next morning she was up betimes, and was soon 
singing cheerily at her work, every now and then stop- 
ping in the midst of some favored melody, to repeat 
softly, 

“ As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.” 

In such a state of cheerfulness time flew swiftly, 
and soon Nathalie was up in the attic writing a note. 
Yes, it sounded all right, she decided as she read it 
over slowly. And then her hand was again flying 


GIVING HER BEST 


45 


over the paper, and another note was written, and 
then another, and still another, until, with a sigh of 
relief, Nathalie found that she had them all finished. 
No, she wasn’t going to leave any one out. Quickly 
gathering up the notes the girl was off, running lightly 
down the stairs, and then flying swiftly across the 
lawn to see what Helen would think of the thing she 
had planned in the stillness of the night. 


CHAPTER III 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 

‘ we must prove that we have the true spirit 

I of liberty, the spirit of humanity,’’ Nathalie 
spoke very earnestly, and that is why I 
have asked Marie Katzkamof to belong to the club. 
She is the little lame girl, you know who she is; she 
sits at the news-stand on the corner of Main and West 
streets, and sells the papers when her father is at busi- 
ness. She is always knitting — sweaters for the sol- 
diers, she says. It makes me feel ashamed when I 
realize how hard she works to do her ‘ little bit.’ ” 
You are right, Nathalie,” replied Helen thought- 
fully, for you have struck something big in your idea 
that we are all Americans, and that the club should be 
free to all. But hurry over, and see what Mrs. Mor- 
row has to say. I believe she'll think the whole scheme 
is fine.” 

But Nathalie was already at the door, her brown 
eyes sparkling with suppressed excitement, and her 
cheeks flushed with the soft pink that all the girls ad- 
mired, and some envied. And then she was making 
her way across the road to the white house on the 
corner, still softly humming, 

46 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 47 

“ As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.” 

The Tuesday that Nathalie had designated in her 
notes to the invited girls had arrived, and the girl, 
somewhat pale from nervousness, was standing be- 
fore a small table in the living-room of her home. 
Facing her were a dozen or more girls, all more or less 
in an attitude of expectant interest as they sat, some on 
chairs, others on the couch in the hall, while the Pi- 
oneers, as was their wont when chairs were limited, 
were seated in a circle on the floor. 

Now, girls,” cried Nathalie, determined to plunge 
ahead and get the thing started before her enthusiasm 
and nerves collapsed to a frazzle, as she told Helen 
afterward, “ I have asked you all here to-day, to form 
a club in the interest of liberty. The Girl Pioneers 
know just how big a thing liberty is, for they had the 
pleasure of hearing Mrs. Morrow, our Pioneer direc- 
tor, in her little talk on liberty. Oh, Lillie Bell, would 
you mind repeating what you remember of Mrs. Mor- 
row’s speech?” Nathalie broke off abruptly, turning 
towards that young lady, one of the most popular of 
the Pioneer girls. “ I know you have a good memory, 
Lillie,” Nathalie pleaded, “ and are such a good elo- 
cutionist that you can do it better than any one else I 
know.” 

This calling upon Lillie Bell was a stroke of finesse 
on the part of Nathalie. For Lillie, when she had 


48 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


learned that the club was to be so democratic that the 
daughter of her newsdealer, a Russian Jew, had been 
invited, had loftily declared that although she was a 
good American, and wanted to do all she could for lib- 
erty, well, she didn't know that she cared to chum with 
all the Jews in the town. 

Nathalie had been keenly alive to the desirability of 
having Lillie a member, because she was not only 
bright and efficient, but because she was such a good 
entertainer. This declaration of Lillie’s, however, had 
caused her spirits to fall below zero, and she began to 
fear that the whole thing would prove a fizzle. But 
when so many girls had responded to her invitation, 
all keyed to expectant curiosity — Lillie among them 
— her spirits had taken a leap into the nineties. Im- 
mediately her alert mind had begun to plan in what 
way, and how, she could interest Lillie in the club, so 
that she would take an active part in its doings. A|id 
here was her chance. 

Lillie Bell, with her usual timely poise, gracefully 
and smilingly rose to the occasion. In her most lur- 
ing manner she not only repeated Mrs. Morrow’s 
speech, but interpreted it with such a stirring American 
spirit, that not only was Nathalie electrified, but the 
whole audience were inspired to such a pitch of en- 
thusiasm that they broke into hearty applause. 

As soon as the clamor subsided, Nathalie cried 
earnestly, Now that we all know what liberty means, 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


49 


and the possibilities that lie before us, I propose that 
we form ourselves into a club to be known as ‘ The 
Liberty Girls/ ’’ 

Another outburst of approval brought the speaker 
to a halt, but only for a moment, and then she went on 
smilingly, “ W ell, I am glad that you like the name, 
for it means something.” Then she briefly told of the 
seventeen young girls, who, over a hundred and fifty 
years ago, had formed a club called “ The Daughters 
of Liberty.” 

“ They did their bit,” smiled the girl, by sewing 
all day on homespun garments to prove that the col- 
onies could be independent of the mother-country, and 
swore that they would drink no tea until the tax had 
been removed. They also declared that they would 
have nothing to do with any of their young gentlemen 
friends who dared to drink the detested beverage. 

“ But, girls,” said Nathalie rather hurriedly, as she 
stepped from behind the little table, '‘if we are to 
form ourselves into a club, we shall have to have a 
chairman, for although the idea originated with me, 
that does not mean that you have got to have me for 
a leader,” she ended modestly. 

“ But we don’t want any one but you,” called out 
some one enthusiastically, which cry was so emphatic- 
ally echoed by others, that Nathalie stood hopelessly 
bewildered, a wave of color dyeing her face a rose- 
pink. 


50 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


But in this crucial moment Helen came to her res- 
cue, and jumping on her feet cried, — even Lillie, 
Grace, and Edith bobbed up too, — “ Girls, I make the 
motion that we form ourselves into a club to be known 
as ‘ The Liberty Girls,’ and that we elect for presi- 
dent, Miss Nathalie Page. All in favor of this mo- 
tion stand up ! ” 

There was a quick, simultaneous movement of many 
feet, and then, as Helen sensed that Nathalie had been 
duly elected leader by her mates, she called out, ‘‘ Well, 
Nathalie, you will have to be president, for every one 
wants you.” 

“ Yes, and we won’t have any one else,” added 
Edith quickly, with a sudden clap of her hands. This 
was the signal for the girls to start up a loud clapping 
in approval of the newly elected president, whose rose- 
pink cheeks had deepened to scarlet as she stood bow- 
ing, somewhat confusedly, to them. 

Whereupon Lillie Bell gracefully came to the fore, 
and dramatically seizing the hand of the young girl 
while leading her back to her seat, in an impressive 
manner cried, Allow me, Miss Nathalie Page, to 
lead you to the seat of honor, as the president of the 
club, ‘ The Liberty Girls.’ ” 

Nathalie bowed and laughed with embarrassment, 
but she determined to carry off the honors bestowed 
upon her with a good grace, and as soon as the some- 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


51 


what noisy demonstrations of pleasure from the girls 
had ended, she said modestly, “ Girls, I thank you for 
wanting me to be your leader, and only hope I will 
make a good one” 

There was more plaudits, and then Nathalie, with 
grave seriousness, said : “ Girls, now that we have 

pledged ourselves not only as a club, but as individuals, 
to further the cause of liberty, I would suggest that 
our watchword be, ‘ Liberty and humanity — our best.’ 
Humanity means to be helpful and kind to our neigh- 
bors, our best means to work with a strenuous will to 
do everything we can to that end. Our neighbors at 
the present moment loom very large and big as the 
needy and suffering ones overseas, as the sick, the 
wounded, the dying, the prisoners, the refugees, and 
all those who are fighting on land and sea; yes, and 
those in the air, and all those who are helping to care 
for the ones I have mentioned, as the doctors and 
nurses, for they, too, all need help. If we can’t fight, 
we have got to help those who are fighting in our stead. 
Yes,” she added solemnly, and we must be prepared 
even to have the desire to do what we can for our 
enemies, for as liberty makes no discrimination as to 
who shall enjoy it, so in the doing of humane acts we 
should remember all.” 

As Nathalie, highly elated by the enthusiasm shown 
by her audience, stood waiting for quietness, suddenly 


52 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


her eyes rested on little lame Marie Katzkamof, whose 
big black eyes shone like two stars from her pale, sallow 
face. Nathalie had another inspiration. 

She bent forward and in a low, earnest voice cried. 
Do you think, little Marie, that you would enjoy be- 
ing a member of this club? Wouldn’t you like to do 
something — yes, your best — to help the poor refu- 
gees in France and Belgium, and the brave soldier 
boys who are fighting, so that the whole world can 
enjoy liberty? ” 

Yiss, ma’am ; I have a glad on liberty,’’ the girl 
giggled nervously, “ but it’s like this mit me, I likes 
I shure I don’t make you no trouble.” 

But it won’t be any trouble to us, Marie,” an- 
swered Nathalie with a smile. “ We will all help you ; 
humanity means to help others.” 

But, Missis Page,” the girl’s face was scarlet, her 
big eyes mournful. '' It’s like this mit me, I ain’t 
stylish like these young ladies; I make nottings mit 
them, for I ain’t shmardt, hein ? Und this leg it ain’t 
yet so healthy. Und, Missis Page, I’m lovin’ mit lib- 
erty, but 1 ain’t lovin’ much mit Krisht, for I’m a 
Jewess.” 

Nathalie faltered a moment, for she had seen a smile 
creep into the eyes of the girls, which she knew would 
become a laugh if she did not say the right thing. 

Yes, you may not love Christ, as we Christians,” 
she answered quickly, ** but if you love the liberty, per- 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


53 


haps you may learn to know what it means to love 
Him. And then, Marie, that will make no difference, 
for as long as you want to help the suffering ones, and 
show humanity, that makes you an American, no mat- 
ter who, or what you are.’' 

“ Thank you. Missis Page,” the girl’s face had 
lighted with repressed joy, “ sure I’m an American, 
I can’t do nottings mit the fight, like the soldiers, but 
you bet yer life I can knit for them, hein? ” And the 
little daughter of Israel held up a strip of wool with 
its two shiny needles. ‘‘ Shure und my hands are 
straight,” she continued pathetically, “ even if my legs 
ain’t healthy.” 

Nathalie’s eyes blurred, but she answered smilingly, 
“ Why, that will be lovely, Marie.” Then, turning to- 
wards the girls, she cried, “ Every one in favor of ap- 
pointing Marie Katzkamof captain of the Knitting 
Squad, please hold up her hand.” And every hand 
went up. ‘‘ And we’ll call you Captain Molly,” went 
on Nathalie, in memory of that brave young woman, 
Alolly Pitcher, who, when her husband fell dead at 
the battle of Monmouth, during the Revolution, took 
his place, — she was carrying water to the soldiers, — 
seized the rammer of his gun, and fired it. And she 
kept on firing it,” cried Nathalie -with glowing eyes, 
“ with the shot and vshell flying all about her, until the 
battle was over. And with that name and the bravery 
of that Molly — for I know you are brave, Marie — 


54 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


I know you will do your best for liberty, and for the 
soldiers who are on the firing-line, doing their best, as 
the Sons of Liberty, for the right of every man in the 
world.’’ 

After Lillie Bell had been duly elected vice-president 
of the club, and several other club matters had been 
disposed of, Nathalie proposed, as an inspiration to 
the girls, that they form a circle in the center of the 
room, and stand with clasped hands, to show the in- 
terdependence of one upon the other. Then in 
turn,” she explained, “ let each girl tell of some woman, 
or girl, who, by her bravery in doing what she could 
for some one else, or for the world, has given of her 
best to mankind, and shown that she was a true lover 
of humanity, and a daughter of liberty.” 

The girls, quickly grasping Nathalie’s idea, were 
soon standing in a circle, hurriedly trying to concen- 
trate their minds on some one woman who had given 
of her greatness to mankind. 

“ Can we tell about the Pioneer women?” asked a 
Girl Pioneer timidly. 

Yes, indeed,” answered the young president, “ and 
we ought to hear about them first, too, for they were 
the ones who really taught us what it means to love 
liberty. Although they were not the first women who 
did great things for their fellow-beings, they were the 
ones who made clear to us that real liberty means hu- 
manity, justice, and democracy for all.” 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


55 


Helen now started the liberty chain by clasping the 
hand of her neighbor on each side of her and telling 
of the women of the Mayflower, who, by their acts of 
sacrifice, and stern determination to worship God as 
they thought right, gave us religious freedom. 

Nita told of the coming of the ship, the Arbella, 
to Gloucester with John Winthrop, the governor of 
Massachusetts Bay Colony, and the two noted Puri- 
tan brides, the Lady Arbella and Anne Bradstreet, the 
latter our first American poetess. And gave testimony 
of their devotion to Puritanism, and their desire to 
benefit mankind. 

One Pioneer told of America’s first club-woman, 
Anne Hutchinson, portraying her trial andTanfsHment 
from Boston, in her efforts to benefit mankind by 
teaching them freedom of thought. Another told of 
Mary Dyer, the noted Quakeress, and how she was 
hanged from an old elm on Boston Common because 
she believed in freedom of religion. 

Margaret, the wife of John Winthrop, the governor, 
and Susannah, the mother of John Wesley, both be- 
loved for their sweet piety and charity, were cited as 
examples of having given of their best in being the 
ideal wife and mother. Lillie Bell told of Florence 
Nightingale, the young English woman who gave up 
a life of luxury to help the soldiers during the Crimean 
War in 1854. She became known as ‘‘ The Lady of 
the Lamp,” from a statue of her as she stands with a 


56 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

nurse’s lamp in her hand, erected in a church in Lon- 
don. 

A Girl Scout told of Dorothy Dix, that wonderful 
woman who made it her life-work to visit prisons and 
insane asylums, in order to institute reforms for the 
care and comfort of the inmates. She also did much 
for the relief of the wounded soldiers during the 
American Civil War. 

Jenny Lind, the great Swedish singer, was cited as 
having given to humanity when she gave her time and 
voice to raise thousands of dollars for the benefit of 
broken-down musicians and writers. Mrs. Harriet 
Beecher Stowe gave of her best, Edith declared, when 
she wrote her book, “ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and showed 
the world the evils of slavery ; as also Mrs. Julia Ward 
Howe, when she wrote that wonderful patriotic song. 

The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” 

The two noted women astronomers, Caroline 
Herschel and Maria Mitchell, when they studied the 
heavens in the interest of science, gave of their best. 
Also Charlotte Cushman, the great actress, who raised 
large sums of money by her acting, and gave it to the 
Sanitary Fund, during the Civil War, was quoted as 
a lover of humanity. 

The Baroness Burdett-Coutts and Miss Helen 
Gould, two of the world’s noted philanthropists, as 
well as Miss Louisa Alcott, in her writings for the 
youth of America, and other women writers were 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


57 


added to the growing list of Liberty Daughters. Dolly 
Madison, the beautiful First Lady of the Land, showed 
herself a true American during the War of 1812. 
When the British burned Washington she refused to 
leave the White House until the portrait of Washington 
was carried to a place of safety, while she herself took 
the Declaration of Independence, with its autographs of 
the signers, away with her, so that it would not be lost 
to America. 

Even Marie, alias Captain Molly, caught the inspira- 
tion of the Liberty Chain, and told of a young Russian 
girl, who, rather than betray the secrets of a great man, 
from a paper that had fallen into her hands, allowed 
herself to be exiled to Siberia. Then came the war 
stories, as that of the noted Quakeress, Lydia Darrach, 
who, during the Revolution, on learning the secrets of 
the British officers who were quartered at her house, 
endured untold hardship in traveling many miles in 
the dead of winter to reveal them to the American 
patrol, so as to save the Continental Army from dis- 
aster. 

Hannah Weston, who filled a pillow-case with pew- 
ter-ware when she heard that a certain town was in 
need of ammunition, and carried it many miles through 
the woods at night, was cited for her bravery and her 
sacrifice, in her effort to help others. The story of 
Betty Zane, and how she ran from the palisade of a 
Western fort to her brother’s hut for a keg of powder 


58 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


in the fire of a tribe of Indians, although a familiar 
one, was listened to with glowing interest. 

Ruth Wyllis, who hid the charter of Connecticut in 
an oak tree, and Katy Brownell, the color-bearer at the 
battle of Bull Run, who stood by the flag in the face 
of the advancing foe, and who would have been shot 
to death if a soldier had not pulled her away, were but 
two recitals of brave deeds for the sake of humanity. 

But at last the liberty chain came to an end by Na- 
thalie telling of Saint Margaret, a plain, uneducated 
Irish woman, who, after losing her husband and child, 
devoted her life and every penny she made to the 
cause of orphan children. A statue, she said, had been 
erected in New Orleans to this noble woman, who gave 
of her best to humanity when she devoted her life to 
these little waifs. 

After the girls had returned to their seats, Nathalie 
appointed seven squads. She had made it seven, she 
said, not only because it was a lucky number, but be- 
cause there were just seven letters in the name. Liberty. 
Helen was made the captain of the Florence Night- 
ingale Squad, since she had gained many honors, as a 
Girl Pioneer, as an expert maker of bandages. 

Nita, with a Girl Scout as a running mate, was made 
captain of the Scrap-Book Squad, which meant the 
making of scrap-books for the convalescing soldiers in 
the hospitals. Lillie Bell and a Camp Fire Girl were 
placed at the head of the Garments Squad for the cut- 


THE LIBERTY GIRLS 


59 


ting and sewing of garments for the refugee children of 
France and Belgium. Two Girl Scouts were made 
captains of the Flower Squad, with the purpose of 
raising and selling flowers for the Liberty Loan fund. 

Jessie Ford had charge of the comfort-kits for the 
soldier-boys, while Barbara Worth, who was an expert 
knitter, was appointed to work with Captain Molly, 
the Russian Jewess. Nathalie was unanimously 
chosen as the captain of the Liberty Garden, with Edith 
Whiton and several other Girl Pioneers. They were 
not only to raise vegetables and fruits in their garden- 
to-be, but they were to do canning as well. 

After some discussion it was decided that the club 
members wear a uniform consisting of a white shirt- 
waist, with the letters L. G. in red on the arm, on the 
corners of their white sailor-collars, and on the hat- 
bands of their white sailor-hats, and to wear white 
or khaki skirts. 

Nathalie had just appointed a committee to scour 
the town for a parcel of ground to use as a flower and 
Liberty garden, when a sudden noise was heard. The 
girl looked quickly up, to see Mrs. Morrow standing 
in the doorway leading from the dining-room, with 
her arms filled with flowers. In her hand was a large 
bell, which she was jingling softly, while her blue eyes 
smiled down upon the girls with radiant good-will. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 

N athalie stared in amazement, and then, re- 
covering her usual poise, she cried, “ Oh, Mrs. 
Morrow, please come right in, for I want you 
to meet my Liberty Girls.’' As the girl spoke she 
advanced towards her unexpected guest, who was com- 
ing slowly forward, as if not assured of her welcome. 
But the cordiality expressed in the tones of Nathalie’s 
voice, and the fact that the girls had all risen on their 
feet, — her own girls at attention in the Pioneer salute, 
— with their faces aglow with pleasure, quickly as- 
sured her that her welcome was a hearty one. 

With a sudden movement she turned to Nathalie 
and asked, “ May I have the floor a moment. Miss 
President ? ” As the girl assented, although some- 
what mystified, Mrs. Morrow took her place behind 
the small table, and with a quick nod of greeting to 
the faces upturned to hers, cried : “ Girls, I am 

greatly pleased to see you here to-day, and to know 
that our Pioneer Blue Robin’s little plan to make you 
all work with a keener zest for liberty, has succeeded 
so well. I also want to assure you of my hearty co- 
6o 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 


6i 


operation, and my wish that all of you, those who are 
Pioneers, and those who belong to other clubs, will be 
inspired to better work in your own organizations by 
the fact that you have banded together to stand 
unitedly as Daughters of Liberty, in order to show that 
you are all loyal Americans. In proof of my good 
wishes I am going to present the club with a bell. It 
is needless to say that it is not the Liberty Bell, but a 
facsimile in miniature. 

“ Wait, I have not finished,’’ laughingly protested 
the lady as she held up her hand, — for some of the 
girls had started to clap. I want you to know before 
your president rings it, — it is to be rung to call you 
together in the sacred cause of liberty, — that way up 
in the top has been inserted a very tiny chip from the 
real Liberty Bell, — the bell that was rung over a hun- 
dred years ago to announce that the thirteen colonies 
had become the United States of America. I hope, 
girls, that when you hear this bell ring you will feel 
the same inspiration to do your best as animated the 
patriots in the war of 1776.” 

As Mrs. Morrow paused, the long-delayed clapping 
burst forth with such vigor that she and Nathalie — 
she had drawn the girl to her and was pressing the bell 
into her hand — had to smile and bow again and again. 
But the clapping only halted for a space, for when 
Nathalie saw that quietness reigned, she rang the lib- 
erty bell so loudly and determinedly, while a mischiev- 


62 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

ous twinkle glowed in her eyes, that it broke forth 
again. 

As soon as the demonstration was over and the bell- 
ringing had subsided, Mrs. Morrow’s voice was heard 
again : “ Now, Liberty Girls, I am going to ask your 

president to take a vote to get your opinion as to who 
you think told the best story about great women in 
your liberty chain. 

'' Perhaps you do not know,” the gray-blue eyes 
deepened, but I was in the dining-room, although 
not purposely an eavesdropper, and had the pleasure 
of hearing the stories told. I have formed an opinion 
as to the best story-teller, but would like to know if 
your opinion coincides with mine.” 

But alas, there were so many different opinions as 
to the best story, and as to who was the best narrator, 
that, to even matters Mrs. Morrow had to take her big 
bouquet of flowers and divide it into three or four 
nosegays. But a smile of satisfaction gleamed in the 
eyes of many when Marie, the little Jewess, received a 
bouquet, and a. few words of commendation from the 
giver. The little captain’s delight was so genuine, and 
her eyes beamed so joyously, that every one rejoiced 
with her. 

After the flowers were distributed, and the girls had 
sung a few patriotic songs, they filed out into the sun- 
shine, happily aglow with the joy of the meeting and 
the inspiration it had brought to them. 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 


63 


Several weeks later we find Nathalie coming slowly 
down the garden- walk with its old-time hedge, from 
the big gray house. The tall pines — now good old 
friends — that bordered the path bowed their tops in 
a cheery good-morning, as she walked beneath their 
shade. 

She had just given her usual morning lesson of two 
hours to her young friend, for Nathalie, on her return 
from Camp Lafif-a-Lot last summer, had found that 
her studies with Nita were to be continued. Yes, and 
she had banked every penny that she could spare from 
her weekly salary of ten dollars. It had seemed such 
a big sum at first, but alas, now that her mother’s in- 
come had slowly dwindled, and she had been com- 
pelled to use it for her own personal needs, and to lay 
part of it aside every week to repay Mrs. Van Vorst 
the loan for Dick’s operation, it seemed a mere pit- 
tance. 

But to-day she felt unusually joyful, for the last 
penny of that haunting debt had been paid, and she 
was now free to call her money her own. If there 
had been many disappointments in life — the going 
to college was still a luring hope — and self-denials, 
added to the unpleasantness of doing housework since 
their coming to Westport, there had been several com- 
pensations that had cast their rosy shadows across the 
darkness. 

One was the joy and the profit she had gained from 


64 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


being a Pioneer, and the other was the great pleasure 
that had come to her in the knowledge that she had a 
purpose in life. Yes, she had told Helen many times, 
“ I think it is one of the delights of life to be legiti- 
mately busy, and to know that you are really doing 
something that is a help to yourself or some one else.” 
And now, added to these compensating joys had come 
the thrills and joys from the new organization, the 
Liberty Girls, for that little patriotic club now num- 
bered almost a hundred. And it had thrived so well, 
and Nathalie had gained so many honors from being 
its founder, that sometimes she feared that she, too, 
would become a bird of the air, like Dick, only in a 
different way, from sheer conceit. 

But if she had been overmuch praised, and had 
found it a pleasant diversion to plan and dream over 
the club’s future successes, she had also found hard 
work and great discouragement. Discouragement, 
too, over such small things, when the girl came to 
face them in the coolness of after- thought, that she 
had felt like throwing the whole thing up, or else just 
letting things drift, and taking what pleasure she 
could, without so much conscientious worry over do- 
ing her best. 

But through all the storm and stress Helen had 
buoyed her with the frequent, sensible remark, that if 
it had taken the world thousands of years to compre- 
hend the true meaning of democracy and liberty, she 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 65 

must expect her girls would be slow in realizing 
many things. But it was tiresome to hold the reins 
of government, and yet sometimes be unable to stop 
their silly chatter, or useless argument over mere 
trifles, all the while holding back the legitimate work 
by their dallying. 

Yes, and it had been an awful strain to manage that 
Liberty Garden. Of course the Pioneers were all 
good workers, and she had given each one some one 
thing to study over, but still she had had to know about 
these things herself, so as to be sure they would do 
the right thing. 

But it was something worth while, she reflected 
sagely, to know that there are three kinds of soil, how 
to test it with litmus paper to see if it was sour or not, 
and, if it was, how to neutralize it, or sweeten its 
acidity. Then she had had to know what kind of 
chemicals acted as food to the soil, so as to know what 
each plant or vegetable required to enrich it and to 
sustain life. She had also learned how to draw moist- 
ure from the land and how to fertilize it. 

By placing seeds on wet blotting-paper in saucers 
she had demonstrated how long it would take them to 
germinate, so as to be able to write her germinating- 
table for the girls. How old seeds should be before 
planting, how deep to plant each kind, the method of 
planting, and how many seeds to plant, and the dis- 
tance apart, had all seemed tiresome and trivial things 


66 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

to many, but it was necessary knowledge to a would-be 
farmer. 

Ah, she had reached the bank. She was going to 
get that ten dollars deposited before it melted away. 
Suddenly her eyes became pools of brightness, and the 
dimples twinkled in the red glow of her cheeks, for 
there, right in front of her, stood Mrs. Morrow, with 
a kiddie boy, as the girl called the twins, on each side 
of her. There was such genuine pleasure in the lady’s 
smiling blue eyes, that Nathalie impulsively cried, 
“Oh, Mrs. Morrow, this is just lovely! I’m so glad 
to see you ? When did you get back ? ” for her good 
friend had been away for several weeks. 

“ Last night, Nathalie, and I am so pleased to meet 
you,” was the cordial greeting, “ for I have heard so 
many reports about the Liberty Girls’ club that I am 
anxious to hear all about it from you.” 

“ Oh, it is just the dandiest thing, Mrs. Morrow,” 
cried the girl jubilantly. And then, lured by the 
kindly interest in her friend’s eyes, her tongue un- 
loosened, and she was soon busy telling about the 
club’s many experiences, and the good that had come 
from the industry of its members. 

“ And Helen is a dear,” Nathalie rattled on, “ for 
she has taught her girls the most wonderful things, 
and now they have all enrolled as Red Cross members. 
She had been reading to them from Florence Night- 
ingale’s ' Notes on Nursing,’ and now she has taken 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 


67 


up other works on the same subject. Lillie, too, reads 
to the girls at the club meetings about great women, 
while I inspect the work. The Garment and Comfort- 
Kit squads meet together, and Jessie Ford not only 
tells them about the French villages and the towns 
that have been destroyed by the Germans, but reads to 
them from the ' Prince Albert Book.' 

We are to have our Liberty Pageant to-morrow, 
and all the people who live on the line of parade have 
been perfectly lovely, for they have sold tickets for 
the seats on their verandas, and are to give the money 
to us for the Liberty Fund, so we can buy Liberty 
bonds. And the day after," continued Nathalie, we 
are to have a liberty sale on Mrs. Van Vorst's grounds, 
the Pioneers' meeting-place, you know. Indeed, we 
are almost over the tops of our heads in work, and 
we have enough plans to last the rest of the summer. 
Mother declares I am the busiest girl she knows." 

'' And the Liberty Garden, has that turned out well ? 
I understand it is the work of my girls, the Pioneers." 

^Hndeed, yes," returned her companion; “it has 
been said to be one of the beauty spots of Westport. 
We have bordered it with nasturtiums, poppies, mari- 
gold, sweet peas, and all sorts of old-time posies. But 
we had a time getting the ground, for this year every 
one was hysterically wild to cultivate every inch of 
ground for a war-garden, and nobody wanted to loan 
any. Finally, however, Edith and Lillie tried their 


68 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


powers of persuasion on old Deacon Sawyer, — you 
know he’s one of the pillars of the old Presbyterian 
church, and he let us have an old lot of his on Summer 
Street, about a hundred feet or so square. 

“ And how we have worked over it, for of course 
it had to be plowed. Peter, Mrs. Van Vorst’s gar- 
dener, — he’s the kindest-hearted thing alive, — offered 
to plow it for us, but we declined with a vote of 
thanks, for we felt that wouldn’t be our work. So 
Edith scoured the town until finally she borrowed an 
old nag from the livery-stable man, — he was just 
ready to crumble to pieces, — and Nita got a plow 
from Peter, and we plowed it ourselves. 

But the time we had with that old steed,” Na- 
thalie’s eyes gleamed humorously, “ for just as he 
would be going nicely across the field, he would be 
inspired to take the ' rest-cure ’ and stand stock-still, 
and no amount of pulling — we all got behind him 
and pushed — or coaxing would induce him to budge 
a hair. O dear, we worked over him until we thought 
we should expire with the heat, our faces all red and 
perspiring. 

Then Edith took to pulling his tail ; she said she 
had read that would make a balky horse go. Oh, it 
was funny to see her! ” Nathalie laughed outright. 
“ But, dear me, it only made him lift one leg, very 
slowly, and then the other, and then settle down in 
the same old rut, as still as the wooden horse of Troy, 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 


69 


‘‘ You know Edith is a stick-at-the-job sort of per- 
son/’ commented Nathalie confidentially, “ and what 
do you think? She actually got a firecracker and set 
it off under that beast. But even that fiery commo- 
tion only caused him to wink one lash and then resume 
his restful pose. But finally the spirit moved him, 
and so suddenly,” laughed the girl, “ that Edith went 
sprawling on the ground, and Jessie tumbled in a most 
humble attitude, — on her knees, — minus the reins, 
while our noble steed went careering at a loping gal- 
lop across the field, while we, like a lot of mutes, 
stared at him in stupid wonder. 

Well, after we got the land all plowed,” re- 
sumed Nathalie, ‘‘ we had irrigated it, by making a 
little ditch to let the water run down from the hilly 
slope at one end, we planted our vegetables in rows. 
But alas,” the girl gave a sigh, “ when the plants be- 
gan to come up we found that the whole field was 
filled with coarse rye-grass which had roots, and 
which had simply been cultivated, one might say, by 
the plow. 

We did not know what to do at first, until we 
remembered our Pioneer motto, ‘ I Can,’ and then we 
set to work with a will, and spaded every inch of that 
lot; and it meant hard labor, too, for the grass was like 
gristle. When the little plants began to come up and 
a girl would pull a blade to see how it was doing, 
part of the plant would come up with the roots. 


70 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


When we planted the different kinds of beans, using 
the string and stakes, and pressing down the ground 
hard with our feet, on five different occasions a violent 
rain came up during the night, and the next morn- 
ing we found all the seeds uncovered and washed down 
into little piles at the end of the garden, and every- 
thing had to be done over again. 

“ After we had planted rows and rows of hills of 
corn and rejoiced to see coming forth little green 
plumes three inches high, we went to the garden in 
our uniforms one day, laden with our garden-tools, 
ready for work. But alas! we found that the crows 
had pulled out the corn from almost every hill; the lit- 
tle black imps had bitten off the kernels and gulped 
them down, and the stalks lay withering on the 
ground. 

“ Oh, I shall never forget the expression on Edith’s 
face that day,” said Nathalie thoughtfully, when she 
saw the havoc wrought by those crows; it was such 
utter despair. I thought she was going to cry, but 
she didn’t — just hurried to the little shed where we 
keep our tools and things. When she reappeared her 
face was a sunbeam all right, as she exclaimed, ‘ Well, 
girls, let’s get the better of those crows, and plant all 
over again.’ 

‘‘ Really, Mrs. Morrow, Edith inspired me to such 
respect for her indomitable courage and pluck,” went 
on the girl candidly, “ that I shall always keep a very 


THE LIBERTY GARDEN 


71 


warm place in my heart for her, notwithstanding that 
she sometimes gets on my nerves. Things went on 
swimmingly then until that awful drought came. We 
had no way of watering the garden except by water- 
ing-pots, and then we couldn’t do our weeding, or cul- 
tivating, until late in the afternoon on account of the 
hot sun. But we did our best, and we have been re- 
paid,” smiled Nathalie, “ although we did not produce 
as much as I had hoped. Still — well, you’ll see at 
the pageant to-morrow.” Nathalie, suddenly realiz- 
ing that she had kept Mrs. Morrow standing for some 
time, while she rattled on about that garden, now bade 
her a hasty good-morning and hurried into the bank. 

The young president of the Liberty Girls’ club 
passed a somewhat troubled night, oppressed with the 
anxiety of her onerous responsibility, knowing that 
the following day would be a well-filled one. As the 
proposer and planner of the pageant there were nu- 
merous details to arrange at the very last moment, 
and she was so afraid that she would oversleep, that 
she awakened several times with a nervous start, only 
to find everything enveloped in darkness. 

Arousing finally, to see the East streaked with red, 
and the golden rim of the sun gleaming above a silver 
line of clouds, she sprang out of bed with a devout 
little prayer of thankfulness that the day at least was 
to be a sunshiny one. An early breakfast, a hurried 
doing of her customary duties, and then she and Grace 


72 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


— in the latter’s car — were off to inspect the floats, 
eighteen of them, all ready in barns, or garages, await- 
ing her word that they were properly equipped for the 
liberty parade, which was to set forth on its journey 
through the town at two in the afternoon. 

And then, with many misgivings, fearing that the 
whole thing might prove a fizzle, — for of course, many 
things had been wrong, — she hurried home for lunch- 
eon. Then came a hurried dressing, a whirl in an 
automobile, and she was dazedly taking her seat, a 
post of honor, on the front row of the grand-stand, 
erected by the Boy Scouts and Peter, in front of Mrs. 
Van Vorst’s high garden-walls. 

She barely had time to realize that the notables of 
the village were seated to the right and left of her, and 
to exchange a few greetings with one or two old-time 
friends, when she heard the ringing of a bell, the bell 
in the tower of the old Presbyterian church. This 
was the signal that the Liberty Pageant, way up at the 
other end of the town, was to issue from its shelter of 
green trees in front of the brick schoolhouse, and set 
forth on its march down through Main Street, the 
most important thoroughfare of the sleepy little town, 
with its wide, asphalted road shaded by noble old elms. 


CHAPTER V 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 

N athalie was sure that she would never for- 
get those tense, anxious moments as she stared 
with strained eyes, trying to catch the first 
glimpse of the coming show, while listening with alert 
ears to the oncoming tread of many feet, the noise and 
bustle of moving equipages, and the buzz and hum 
from the excited voices of the paraders and the on- 
lookers. High above the tumult floated snatches of 
patriotic song, as sung by the Liberty Girls, and the 
loud outbursts of applause from the villagers, who 
lined the street. 

Ah, there it was! The girl’s heart leaped in wild 
bounds, she bent forward eagerly, and then she was 
sitting with nervously clasped hands, gazing with 
wide-open eyes at the slowly passing floats of the 
Liberty Pageant. It was heralded by a procession of 
small maidens costumed as Greek goddesses, who, 
while moving and swaying rhythmically, and holding 
festoons of white flowers high above their heads, were 
singing Thomas Paine’s “ Liberty Tree.” As they 
burst out with the old familiar words: 

73 


74 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ In a chariot of light from the regions of day, 

The Goddess of Liberty came ; ” 

Nathalie was forcibly reminded of the time when she 
had last heard that song. Yes, it was almost a year 
ago, on Mrs. Van Vorst’s lawn, when the Girl Pioneers 
had held their little playlet of “ Liberty Banners.” 

But her thoughts were again on the series of living 
pictures, and she smiled with her neighbors at the two 
small boys, one gowned as a doctor of the law, and the 
other as a brass-buttoned, blue-coated guardian of the 
peace, mounted on small horses caparisoned in white, 
whose trappings were marked in gold with the words 
“ Law ” and Order.” As the diminutive doctor re- 
moved a pen from behind his ear, and peered learnedly 
through his goggles at a ponderous volume of law rest- 
ing on a rack in front of him, while his companion on 
the neighboring flower-bedecked steed flourished a 
somewhat formidable-looking club, in token of the 
duties of his office, roars of laughter broke from the 
spectators. 

But as their eyes wandered on to the snowy chariot, 
where the Spirit of Liberty stood with outstretched 
hands, one holding a branch of evergreen, and 
the other a lighted torch, their laughter ceased, and a 
strange hush stilled their noisy clamor. For this 
beautiful maiden in loosely flowing garments, with 
eyes as bright and shining as the starry chaplet that 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


IS 

wreathed her golden, unbound hair, was the little 
hunchback of the big gray house, Nita Van Vorst! 

High above the “ angel face,” as Nathalie heard 
some one designate the girl’s countenance, beautiful 
in its inspiration of happiness and patriotism — her 
deformity hidden by her white wings — was a large 
banner inscribed with the words : 

“Enter at Freedom's porch, ^ 

For you I lift my torch, 

For you my coronet 
Is rayed with stars 
My name is Liberty, 

My throne is Law.” 

Guarding the Spirit of Liberty, while holding the 
streamers that floated from the banners above, were 
three more white-robed figures, representing the three 
great principles for which the world was striving. The 
unbound tresses of each were banded with white, and 
the first bore the word, Democracy,” the girl hold- 
ing a white dove on her hand. The second was Hu- 
manity, — who cuddled a little Belgian refugee in 
her arms; and the third was Justice, who held aloft 
a pair of scales. 

Nathalie’s eyes radiated with gladness as she heard 
her neighbors voice their commendations in praises of 
the snowy chariot, the symbol of freedom, man’s divine 
heritage from God. She began to feel that the many 

1 “ Liberty Enlightening the World,” E. C. Stedman. 


76 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


hours that she and Helen had spent in devising and 
planning the details of this float and its mates, after 
all, might be appreciated.' 

The second picture was a marriage scene, a float 
marked “ Virginia, 1607,” and bore the famous words 
of its well-known orator, ‘‘ Give me liberty, or give me 
death.’' It was decorated with white flowers in honor 
of the bride, Pocahontas, — impersonated by a Camp 
Fire girl in an Indian deerskin robe wondrously em- 
broidered, and gay with many-colored beads, — who 
stood by the flower-decked pulpit amid a bower of 
green, being united in the holy bands of matrimony to 
John Rolfe. 

The pose of the Indian maiden, the sweet serious- 
ness of her tawny-dyed face and melting black eyes, 
the dignified pose of the Virginia planter, so vividly 
portrayed the romantic episode of the first American 
colony, that the many onlookers broke forth into 
shouts of approval. The quaintly attired figures of 
the Jamestown settlers in the foreground, and the group 
of Indian warriors with their war-plumes and dabs of 
paint were backed by a miniature tower. Some one 
inquired if it was a monument, much to the young 
president’s disgust, as she considered it a noble work 
of art, which had been laboriously built of old bricks by 
the Girl Pioneers to represent the ruined tower of 
Jamestown. 

Massachusetts was identified by the words, ‘‘ The 



“My name is Liberty, 

My throne is Law.” — Page 75. 




THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


77 


Founders of Liberty,” and a simulated boulder, which 
Blue Robin watched with great trepidation for fear the 
blithesome Mary Chilton, who stood victorious on this 
Forefathers’ Rook, in too zealous jubilation would 
shake it too much. But the sprightly Pilgrim maiden, 
in gray cape and bonnet — it was the Sport — remem- 
bered the perilous foundations, and her scorn was dis- 
creetly tempered with caution as she gazed at the some- 
what crestfallen John, who stood with one foot on the 
rock, and the other in a miniature shallop, where the 
Pilgrim Fathers stood dismally regarding this fore- 
runner of the progressive American girl. 

New York’s contribution to the cause of freedom 
was a float brilliantly rampant with the Stars and 
Stripes, and a little white flag with a black beaver on 
it, the State’s emblem. This float, which bore the 
words, “ The Sons of Liberty,” was in commemora- 
tion of the brave lovers of freedom on the little isle 
of Manhattan, who, in February, 1770, raised the first 
Liberty Pole in America at what is now known as 
City Hall Park. To be 'sure, it was cut down twice, 
but Liberty was afire, and it was finally hooped with 
iron and set up the third time, this time to stay. 

“ Liberty Hall,” the name of the home of a one-time 
governor of New Jersey, was conspicuously seen on 
the next float. The girls had had some difficulty in 
getting an appropriate design for this little garden 
State that could be conveniently staged on a small- 


78 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


sized platform. But they had evidently succeeded, for 
the quaintly gowned young maiden who acted her role 
in pantomime was loudly applauded as she flew to an 
improvised window, only to exhibit wild alarm, and 
then in frenzied haste scurried to an old-time escritoire. 
Here she rummaged a moment or so, and then ex- 
tracted a bundle of letters, which she hurriedly se- 
creted behind a loosened brick beside a simulated fire- 
place. In explanation of this silent drama Nathalie 
told that the young girl was Susannah, the daughter of 
William Livingston, the governor, who, when she saw 
the redcoats marching towards the house in her fa- 
ther’s absence, quickly remembered his valuable papers 
and hid them for safety. 

Five girls in homespun gowns, sewing on a United 
States flag, composed the New Hampshire float, which 
flew the State emblem, with its motto of Liberty in- 
scribed on its side. The flag-makers, out of their best 
silk gowns, were making, in accordance with the de- 
scription in the resolution just passed by Congress, 
June 14, 1777, the first Stars and Stripes that floated 
from the Ranger, to which Captain Paul Jones had just 
been commissioned, and which became known as “ the 
unconquered and unstricken flag.” 

The Connecticut float bore the words, The Liberty 
Charter,” while a Liberty Girl, in a good impersona- 
tion of Ruth Wyllis, stood by a ladder resting against 
a somewhat strange simulation of the Charter Oak, 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


79 


handing the supposed charter to the redoubtable Cap- 
tain Wadsworth, who quickly secreted it in the hollow 
of the tree. 

Terra Marie, the land of Mary, not only blazoned 
the words, “ The Rights of Liberty,” but portrayed 
Margaret Brent, the first woman suffragist, as she stood 
before the Maryland Assembly and pleaded with those 
worthies, with masculine energy, for her right to a say 
in the affairs of the little State, the State noted for its 
Toleration Act of 1649. Surely the good woman, as 
the representative of the deceased Governor Calvert, 
who had given his all to her with the words, “ Take all, 
and give all,” had a right to demand that she be heard. 

The “ Daughters of Liberty ” made a brilliant show-- 
ing in big letters on the little Rhody float, to honor the 
seventeen young girls who, in 1766, met at the home of 
good old Deacon Bowen, in Providence, and not only 
voiced their disapproval of the Colonies’ tax on tea and 
on cloth manufactured in England, but formed the first 
patriotic organization known in America. It was the 
same inspiration of liberty that impelled their emulat- 
ors to adopt their name, and to plan and push through 
the demonstration of which every one was so proud. 
As these Liberty maidens sat and spun at their looms, 
or whetted their distaffs on the float before the gaping 
crowd, they were guarded by two impersonations, — 
one the father of toleration, Roger Williams, who 
looked benignantly down upon these devotees of free- 


8o 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


dom, and the other, America’s first club-woman, the 
learned and martyred Anne Hutchinson. 

Ah, but who is this riding astride a horse of sable 
blackness, curveting and prancing with chafing irrita- 
tion at the tightened rein of its rider, who 

“ Burly and big, and bold and bluff, 

In his three-cornered hat and coat of snuff, 

A foe to King George and the English state, 

Was Caesar Rodney, the delegate.” ^ 

Of course there were a few who were not familiar 
with this little incident in the history of Delaware, and 
how the aforesaid Rodney, a member of the Conti- 
nental Congress, spurred his horse from Dover to Phil- 
adelphia, a distance of eighty-one miles, to reach Inde- 
pendence Hall before night, in order to cast the vote 
of Delaware for freedom and independence. It was, 
indeed, a great ride, and the townspeople must have 
appreciated it, for the horse and rider were heartily 
cheered as they read the words on the banner : It is 

Liberty’s stress; it is Freedom’s need.” 

North Carolina proved most interesting, with the in- 
scription, ‘‘ The First Liberty Bell of America,” on a 
big hand-bell resting in the center of the float. The 
inscription and the bell aroused so much curiosity as to 
why it should take precedence of the old Liberty Bell 
at Philadelphia, that Nathalie was called upon by a 
group of friends sitting near, to explain that it really 

1 “ Rodney’s Ride.” Poems of American History. B. C. 
Stevenson. 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


8i 


was the first Liberty Bell used in the Thirteen Colonies, 
having sounded its peal for liberty when rung by the 
patriots of that State in 1771. 

“ These patriots,’' went on the young Liberty Girl, 
were the farmers and yeomanry of that State, who, 
in a vigorous protest against the tyrannous acts, mis- 
rule, and extortion during the administration of Gov- 
ernor Tryon, banded themselves into a company known 
as the Regulators. This bell was used to call them to- 
gether in their struggle to maintain the rights of the 
people. These Regulators were not only hounded, per- 
secuted, and sometimes executed as if they were rebels, 
but many of their number were killed at the battle of 
the Alamance, — so named because it took place on a 
field near that beautiful river, — when called upon to 
defend themselves, when fired upon by the governor 
and a company of the king’s troops. This battle has 
been called by some the first battle of the Revolution,” 
continued the young girl, “ and really inspired the 
Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence, the fore- 
runner of the noted Declaration signed at Philadelphia. 
Some historians claim that ‘ God made the flower of 
freedom grow out of the turf that covered these men’s 
graves.’ ” 

After this little story, the inscription, 

“And well these men maintained the right; 

They kept the faith and fought the fight; 

Till Might and Reason both 
Fled fast before the oath 


82 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Which brought the God of Freedom’s battles down 
To place on patriot’s brow the victor’s crown !” ^ 

on the float was eagerly read and doubly appreciated. 
By the bell stood a tiny maid in the long skirt of the 
days of colonial childhood, wearing a long white apron. 
With the crossed kerchief and two bright eyes peeping 
from beneath the golden curls that strayed from be- 
low the little one’s Puritan cap, she looked so sweet 
and demure that murmurs of admiration surged 
through the crowd, as they recognized that this diminu- 
tive lady represented the first white child born in 
America, little Virginia Dare. 

Perhaps only a few knew that the white fawn that 
she was holding by her side featured the legend of the 
white doe that was said to haunt the isle of Roanoke 
for many years after the return of John White, who 
found only the word Croatan to tell him that his dear 
little granddaughter had disappeared, never to be 
found. The legend was so suggestive of the romance 
of North Carolina that the girls could not forbear giv- 
ing it prominence on the float. They had had some 
trouble to find a white doe, but they had succeeded, 
and as Nathalie gazed at it she was again reminded of 
how the legend told that it used to stand mournfully 
gazing out to sea, on a hill of the little isle. The Indi- 
ans, tradition asserted, had failed to kill it, until one 
day it was shot and killed by a silver bullet from the 
hand of an Indian chieftain, who claimed that the bul- 
1 “ The Mecklenburg Declaration,” Wm. C. Elam. 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


83 


let had been given to him by Queen Elizabeth to kill 
witches, when a captive in England. As the beautiful 
doe sank upon the green sward and expired it was said 
to have murmured, Virginia Dare ! Virginia Dare ! 

South Carolina, glaringly conspicuous with red and 
blue bunting, was marked “ Liberty ” in honor of one 
of the most famous flags used in the Revolutionary 
War. It was an ensign of blue with a w^hite crescent 
in one corner, said to have been designed by Colonel 
Moultrie, of Carolina fame, and was declared to have 
been the first flag raised for liberty in the South. 

In the center of the float a miniature trench had been 
raised, on the parapet of which stood a young lad wav- 
ing this little blue flag, in honor of that gallant hero. 
Sergeant Jasper, who, when the flag w'as shot down 
during the bombardment of Fort Moultrie, June 28, 
1776, leaped fearlessly to the top of the ramparts, re- 
ceived the colors, and held them in his hand until an- 
other staff was found. 

“ Lo ! the fullness of time has come, 

And over all the exiles’ Western home 
From sea to sea the flowers of Freedom bloom.” 

This little quotation was an apt one, from the Poet 
Whittier, but it was not necessary to make known to 
those gazing at it, that it stood for the strongest and 
proudest of the sisterhood of States, the home of free- 
men and heroes, of Robert Morris, Dr. Franklin and 
pur good brother, William Penn. 


84 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


This promoter of tolerance, independence, and the 
equal rights of men was fittingly portrayed by a Boy 
Scout. Benignant of face, mild of eye, with long hair 
falling from beneath his broad-brimmed hat, this friend 
of the friendless stood surrounded by a group of Indian 
warriors, resplendent in all the trappings of their tribes, 
making one of the numerous peace treaties. 

But the Georgia float, buried in white to represent 
bolls of cotton, in memory of Eli Whitney, aroused 
such loud and long cries of admiration that Nathalie 
feared that after her hard labor the other floats had 
not received their due mead of appreciation. But no, 
it was the rousing melody of “ Marching through 
Georgia,’' with its telling lines of, 

“ So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, 
Sixty miles in latitude — three hundred to the main ; ” 

and the inspiration that always comes to every North- 
ern heart when they think of that gallant Son of Lib- 
erty, Sherman, and his triumphant march to the sea, 
that had created the sudden tumult. 

The few men in regimentals of the Union army, — 
in real life, boys in brown from Camp Mills, — who 
were playing fifes and bugles on the float, and the 
straggling darkies in the rear, who were shouting with 
verve and gusto, as they followed in the wake of 

Massa Sherman,” intensified the appeal. 

Ah, but now comes another edition of Liberty; this 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 


85 


time no less a personage than Lillie Bell, who, in the old 
costume worn over a year ago on the lawn of the big 
gray house, was standing on a chariot, an old farm 
wagon ablaze with the colors of Freedom, driven by 
four soldiers, representing France, England, Belgium, 
and America. The young goddess with sad and tragic 
eyes shining from beneath her helmet, gazed straight 
before her as she held a drawn sword clasped closely 
to her breast, in a graceful pose beneath the colors of 
the Allies floating gayly above her head. 

Yes, there was no doubt, as Helen had often said, 
Lillie was born for stellar roles, for somehow she had 
the happy faculty of always falling into the desired at- 
titude and mood of the part she was to portray. A 
sudden silence gripped the line of people standing on 
the curb, as they saw this familiar figure of Liberty, in 
a new and strange role. On a beflagged chair of state 
good old Uncle Sam was seated, driving America’s 
symbol of Freedom with reins of roses. Yes, roses to 
typify that the good protector of the United States’ 
joys and interests was on the job, — as the Sport ex- 
pressed it, — but doing it with the silken reins of love. 

In the rear of this float a very small one appeared, 
but it was large enough to display a cannon and a 
pile of cannon-balls, and also a member of the United 
States Marines’ crack quartet of machine-gunners. 
As he was the genuine article, as one of the girls de- 
clared, — being one of the town’s boys home on a leave 


86 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


of absence, and held a Lewis gun, he was received with 
wild cheers. A Jackie was perched on what was sup- 
posed to be a conning-tower, apparently on the watch 
for a submarine, while another soldier of the seas was 
ramming an old cannon, which created much laughter. 

It wasn’t much of a naval display, Nathalie thought 
regretfully, but it was the best they could do with their 
poor equipment, for these Daughters of Freedom were 
resolved to give due honor to these brave guardians of 
the sea. 

A contingent of husky young chaps from Camp Mills 
were lionized as soon as .their khaki-clad figures were 
sighted on the next float, which was marked, Lib- 
erty Boys.” A somewhat crude representation of a 
trench, piled with sand-bags, with a few boys in tin 
hats, with guns in their hands, clambering over it, rep- 
resented to the spectators an Over the Top ” scene. 
In the rear of the trench a few soldiers were grouped 
around a camp-fire, presumably in a rest billet, having 
‘‘ eats.” Every moment or so a soldier on this float 
would break forth into some war-song, which was 
quickly taken up by his comrades, and which helped to 
make the scene very realistic. 

A small float v/ith the Red Cross insignia, bearing 
the words, “ The Cross of Liberty,” with a few nurses 
seated around a table making bandages, now appeared. 
A white cot, with a soldier boy in it, suddenly silenced 
the cheers, — it. was so suggestive of what every heart 


THE LIBERTY PAGEANT 87 

held in silent dread and fear, ever since the United 
States had buckled to the fray. 

But the sudden quiet was broken as the next, and 
last, float hove in sight. It was so artistically gotten 
up as a Liberty Garden, and represented so much fresh- 
ness and beauty with its Liberty Girls, each one dressed 
to represent either a fruit or a vegetable, that it was 
wildly cheered. Masses of fruit piled up here and 
there peeped from bowers of green leaves, or hung in 
festoons across the float. Potatoes, green and red pep- 
pers, onions, cucumbers, and many other products of 
the garden were lavishly in evidence. Carol, the Tike, 
was arrayed as a pumpkin, a row of yellow leaves 
standing above a bunch of green ones. Carrots, cu- 
cumbers, turnips, even beans, beets, and strawberries 
were ingeniously represented by crepe paper. 

But the love of every heart were the Morrow twins, 
standing in the front of the float in blue overalls, wide- 
brimmed hats, and blue shirts, with rakes and hoes in 
their hands, as farmerettes, each one vigorously wav- 
ing a flag. This float completed the series of pictures 
that Nathalie now felt had been duly admired, and she 
smiled happily at the many plaudits that again burst 
forth. But when the farmerettes and these living 
representations of fruits and vegetables broke into ^ 

“Yes, we’ll rally round the farm, boys, 

We’ll rally once again, 

1 “ Patriotic Toasts,” Emerson Brooks. 


88 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Shouting the battle cry of ‘ Feed ’em/ 

We’ve got the ships and money 
And the best of fighting men, 

Shouting the battle cry of ‘ Feed ’em.’ 

“ The Onion forever, the beans and the corn, 

Down with the tater — it’s up the next morn — 

, While we rally round the plow, boys, 

And take the hoe again, 

Shouting the battle cry of ‘ Feed ’em ! ’ ” 

it captured every heart present, and such prolonged ap- 
plause rent the air that Nathalie was duly satisfied. 

As she turned to leave the grand-stand it seemed to 
the tired girl as if every one in town stopped to shake 
hands, and to congratulate her on the huge success 
of the Liberty Pageant. When she finally arrived 
home, it was some hours before she reached her 
couch, for she found the family unduly excited, all 
eagerly talking; no, not about the pageant, but about 
a rather strange letter that had been received by Mrs. 
Page that afternoon. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE STRANGE LETTER 

‘ ‘ Helen, mother received the strangest letter 

^ 9 last night,” cried Nathalie suddenly the fol- 
lowing day, as she stood with her friend and 
Nita in the Red Cross booth at the Liberty Sale. 
‘‘ And I am afraid it means,” the girl’s eyes shadowed, 
** that I shall have to resign as president of the club.” 

“Resign?” exclaimed Helen and Nita simultane- 
ously. “ Oh, Nathalie, you must not do that.” 

“ Well, I fear it will be necessary,” sighed the girl 
dolefully, “ for the home duties come first, especially 
the duties to mother, and she wants to go — she really 
needs the change — and — ” 

“ Go where ? ” questioned Helen sharply. “ Oh, 
Nathalie, you are talking Dutch to us, and — ” 

“ Sure she is,” voiced Nita quickly, “ jumbling let- 
ters and resignations all together in a very queer way. 
Now suppose, young lady,” she commanded imperi- 
ously, seizing her friend by the arm impulsively, “ that 
you unravel our tangled brains and tell us what you 
are aiming at.” 

“ Well, I guess I shall have to, from the stew you 
two girls have sizzled into,” replied Blue Robin laugh- 
89 


90 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


ingly. ‘‘ Well, as I said,” she continued more soberly, 
“ mother received a letter last night. But I shall have 
to tell you a bit of family history, if you want to under- 
stand,” she added hesitatingly. 

As the two girls laughingly assured her that that 
would only make her explanation more interesting, 
Nathalie gathered up her threads and went on with 
her story. Father had an older half-sister, whose 
mother — who came of very wealthy people in Boston 
— left her all of her money, so that she was quite 
wealthy, and in due time became very eccentric. 
Father said she was spoiled with her pot of gold. 

She married when quite young and had one son, 
who, shortly after the death of his father, — as soon as 
he was graduated from college, — went to Europe, fell 
in love with a pretty girl, and married her. I have 
never heard the details of this marriage, but I believe 
the girl was French. No, she may have been English; 
anyway it was quite a romance, and the young couple 
were quite happy. 

‘‘ My aunt, however, was deeply wounded to think 
that her only son, her idol, had spoiled all her plans 
and married some one whom she considered beneath 
him. So when Philip came to America with his young 
wife, my aunt refused to see her. This ang'ered him 
so deeply that they quarreled, and Philip rushed from 
his mother’s presence, declaring that she should never 
see his face again. 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


91 


‘‘ And she never did/' asserted Nathalie with grave 
emphasis. “ Presumably he immediately returned to 
Europe with his young wife, for although Mrs. Ren- 
wick soon repented of her folly, as father called it, 
and wrote her son again and again, she heard nothing 
from him. After employing detectives by the score 
with no result, she finally went abroad and endeavored 
herself to find some trace of him, but was not success- 
ful. She finally returned to America and started to 
seek him here, but found no clew to his whereabouts. 

“ As time passed — I think the matter preyed on 
her mind — she began to have queer spells. No, she 
wasn't crazy, or anything like that, but just worried 
and unhappy, going off alone by herself for months at 
a time, presumably still trying to find her boy. After 
a time she would return from one of these erratic jour- 
neys, but she never told where she had been, and never 
mentioned her son's name. 

“ Now we have come to the letter mother received 
yesterday. It was from my aunt’s lawyer, who sum- 
mers in Littleton, New Hampshire. You see, Mrs. 
Renwick had considerable property in Boston and other 
places, but she was very fond of the White Mountains 
and always summered on Sugar Hill, where she had a 
lovely place called Seven Pillars, only a few miles from 
Littleton, and just a short distance from the mountain 
village of Franconia. 

“ The lawyer," continued Nathalie, who by this time 


92 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


had quite an interested audience, “ writes mother that 
Aunt Mary went off on one of her queer jaunts over a 
year ago and has not returned. In accordance with 
her wishes, — she always leaves a letter of instruction 
when she goes off this, way, — mother and two cousins 
of mine from the West have been invited to spend the 
summer at this place on Sugar Hill. Mother wants to 
go, and I feel that she needs the change, so I shall have 
to go with her, and give up being a Liberty Girl.^’ 

But why should you have to go? ” questioned Nita 
insistently. “ Couldn’t your cousin, Lucille, or your 
sister, Dorothy, go with her? And then, oh, Nathalie, 
you could stay with us! Oh, that would be the dan- 
diest thing! Oh, say yes, Nathalie; say yes.” 

Yes, Nita,” smiled Nathalie teasingly, as she 
placed her arm affectionately about the young girl, ‘‘ it 
would be just dandy, as you say, for indeed I would 
like a rest myself this summer, because when the warm 
weather comes, housework does drag on one so. But 
Lucille is going to California to visit some cousins of 
hers, and has planned to take Dorothy with her. Dor- 
othy is wild to go, and mother would not disappoint the 
child for the world. And then, too, the lawyer wrote 
mother that I was to come with her, as my aunt had 
given instructions. Oh, I just hate to give up my Lib- 
erty work ! ” 

But you will be back in the fall, Nathalie,” sug- 
gested Helen, “ so why not let Lillie Bell take charge 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


93 


— she is vice-president — for the summer ? It will 
give her something to think about, too, for she is pos- 
sessed with the idea of going on the stage, and her 
mother is worrying herself ill over it/’ 

Lillie wants to go on the stage ? ” repeated Nathalie 
in surprise. Why, I didn’t know she had aspirations 
in that line. But do you think she would care to take 
charge of the club ? O dear ! ” she broke off abruptly, 
‘‘ we had planned to do so many things this summer.” 
The girl’s voice was almost a wail. 

“ Why not carry your plans to the mountains with 
you,” inquired her friend, “ and form a club of Liberty 
Girls up there ? I am sure there will be some one who 
will be glad to belong, and you have such a fine way of 
getting people interested in things, Nathalie.” 

Possibly mother may change her mind and decide 
not to go,” returned Nathalie, brightening a little, “ for 
she wants to be near Dick; you know he is now sta- 
tioned at the Aviation Camp, Hazlehurst, at Mineola, 
near Camp Mills. And then, too, she says she hates 
to leave the house alone for so long a period.” 

Why don’t you rent the house for the summer? ” 
suggested Helen practically. “ You know that West- 
port is getting to be quite a summer-resort since the 
new hotel was built on the bluff.” 

No such good luck for us, I’m afraid,” answered 
Nathalie dejectedly, but I’ll look up Lillie and see 
what — ” But Helen had hurried away in answer to a 


94 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


call for the captain of the Red Cross Squad. Nathalie 
stood a moment watching her friend, as she helped one 
of the white-veiled ” girls into her white head-cover- 
ing, starred with its cross, and then went slowly out of 
the booth. 

As her eyes swept over the lawn in search of Lillie, 
her glance fell upon the little flag with its Red Cross 
insignia floating cheerily from the top of the booth she 
had just left, as if in a salute to its companion cross 
placed below on the front, so that its arms stretched 
outward, dividing the booth into two sections. 

Ah, here was the poster drawn by Barbara Worth, 
representing a Red Cross nurse standing by an invalid- 
chair, in which sat a soldier boy with bandaged eyes. 
The girl’s face saddened at its implication, and then she 
had bent forward and was reading the placard per- 
suasively held forth by the nurse, on which was writ- 
ten: 

“ Please buy a Liberty bond of me, 

It’s for the soldiers across the sea, 

Bravely fighting to make the world free. 

Wounded, and dying, for you and me.” 

But now her eyes were held by the poster of a white- 
robed figure, — representing the Spirit of Liberty 
which had heralded the pageant of the day before, — 
waving a flag victoriously above her head, while hold- 
ing a shield with the Biblical quotation : 


T have fought a good fight ... I have kept the faith.’ 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


95 


The face of this water-color sketch of Freedom, 
although bearing no resemblance to Nita’s, was so 
bright with hope that it thrilled the girl’s heart with 
the suggestion that the Allies, by their faith in God 
and their desire to do right, would finally win a vic- 
tory over sin and wrong. 

At this moment she heard the voice of Nita as she 
called her to come and see the display of small dolls, 
miniature Red Cross nurses, to be used as weights, 
door-holders, or pincushions, which were on sale. 
But some real dolls, as Nita called them, proved more 
interesting to Nathalie, because they were the work of 
a shut-in, as her bit towards winning the war, and be- 
cause they were impersonations of some of the crowned 
heads of the allied nations. They were queer little 
things, stiff and stilted-looking, although several were 
excellent imitations, especially those of their majesties. 
King George and Queen Mary, and the little Princess 
Marie of Belgium, 

The girl could not forbear giving Shep — a big, 
tawny-colored collie belonging to the Morrow twins 
— a love-pat, as he stood in front of the booth with 
red-hanging tongue and patient resignation in his 
brown eyes, while several young nurses fussed over 
him. They were trying to fasten a strip of white cloth 
around the center of his body, with a red cross on each 
side, in imitation of a war-dog who had served with a 
Red Cross hospital in France, and who had become 


96 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


famous by his acts of bravery, running into shell-holes 
and dug-outs in search of wounded soldiers. 

But Shep was no patriot, and evidently did not real- 
ize the honor of that big red cross, for suddenly he gave 
his huge body a shake, slipped from beneath the fussing 
fingers, and bounded away after his young masters, 
leaving a gentle friend to humanity lying sprawling on 
the grass. 

As Nathalie turned, her eyes traveled slowly from 
one booth to another. There were seven of them, 
three on the left and three on the right of the Red 
Cross booth, which was in the center of the lawn, at 
one end, fronting its sister booths. The war booth, 
on the left, ablaze with the flags of the Allies, was 
curiously decorated on its front and posts with the 
paper coverings from magazines and books. On its 
counter were displayed the latest war books, — all do- 
nated after a sharp drive by the hostesses, the Camp 
Fire Girls, who wore embroidered deerskin robes aglis- 
ten with many-colored beads, and trench-caps stuck 
jauntily on one side of their heads, which gave them 
a very coquettish and natty appearance. 

Scrap-books, in which were pasted funny verses, tid- 
bits of news from all over the world, with many-col- 
ored pictures, and songs and rhymes to amuse the con- 
valescents in the hospitals, were also on sale. Little 
candles of paper added to the attractiveness of this 
booth’s display, while one or two Camp Fire Girls were 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


97 


in attendance, who, on the payment of a nickel, taught 
the uninitiated the knack of making these trench-can- 
dles. 

But the booth that held the first place in Nathalie’s 
heart was the Liberty Garden booth, a leaf -embowered 
tent. Here were brilliant splashes of color from the 
vegetables piled on wicker mats, as carrots, turnips, 
beans, onions, beets, and other products, artistically 
softened by the light green of lettuce, the red of beet- 
leaves, and the delicate, lacy leaves of the carrot. 

Here and there herbs tied in bunches, as thyme, car- 
away seeds, catnip, sweet lavender, and other herbs, 
suggested the days of long ago, when these little gar- 
den accessories held a higher place with the housewife 
as necessities of the day. Unwieldy tomatoes and po- 
tatoes, lazily resting on plates, added to the picturesque 
effect of the display, as well as the festoons of peppers, 
radishes, parsnips, and vegetables of similar character 
that were hung from side to side of the tent. 

This booth was certainly a brilliant showing of the 
work done by the Pioneers. Oh, how they had 
scrubbed and polished those vegetables to bring out 
their colors, so they would not be messy or huddled- 
looking! And the time it had taken to print the little 
labels so neatly fastened to each exhibit ! 

Yes, through the sweat of her brow Nathalie had 
come to realize that gardening was not merely a mat- 
ter of digging, plowing, or even planting or weed- 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


98 

ing, but that it meant straying into many paths of 
knowledge that hitherto had been closed to her. Then, 
too, there was the trench warfare, as she called the un- 
ceasing onslaught against the bugs, insects, and garden- 
slugs, by a constant fire of hand-grenades and bombs, as 
the girls had come to call the spraying and powdering 
of the plants. 

Ah, there was Lillie, with a number of Girl Pioneers, 
who, in bright-colored overalls and shirt-waists, and 
coquettish little sunbonnets tied under their chins, 
were rather gay editions of farmerettes, as they stood 
in picturesque attitudes, with their rakes and hoes. 
But a moment later Lillie was forgotten, for as Natha- 
lie reached the booth she burst into a sudden squeal of 
delight on suddenly perceiving, on the top of a wall of 
canned vegetables, a little green imp, ingeniously made 
from a string-bean. He not only had a most rakish 
air, with his tiny soldier-hat cocked on one side, as he 
stood at attention with a flag for a gun, but he held 
forth a little placard on which was written : 

“Little Beans, little Beans, whence did you come?” 

“We came from the ground at the sound of the drum.” 

“ Little Beans, little Beans, why are you here ? ” 

“ We were scalded and canned by a Girl Pioneer.” 

Oh, who wrote that? merrily inquired the girl of 
one of the Pioneers, for it was something she had not 
seen before. 

“ Why, one of the Pioneer directors,” answered the 


THE STRANGE LETTER 



farmerette smilingly, pleased at the young president’s 
surprise. 

A moment’s inspection of the fine display of canned 
goods, and Nathalie turned to seek Lillie, but that 
young lady had mysteriously disappeared. One of the 
girls, suggesting that Lillie had gone to the Liberty Tea 
booth to regale herself with a cup nfj ^ Nathalie hur- 
ried on to that booth, where the Daughters of Liberty, 
attired in quaint, old-time costumes, dispensed that bev- 
erage. 

But Lillie was not drinking tea, and again Nathalie 
hurried across the lawn, on her way to the opposite 
booth, a mass of vines and flowers, the result of the la- 
bors of the Girl Scouts in their garden, which they had 
named the Garden of Freedom. 

Ah, here was Lillie talking to a brown-clad soldier- 
boy by the big Liberty pole that had been erected in the 
center of the lawn, facing the Red Cross booth. It 
flew the Stars and Stripes and the club’s ensign, a little 
red banner blazoned with the white stars of hope, while 
a big liberty bell was hung from a cross-beam. On its 
flag-bedecked platform Carol Tyke was stationed as the 
bell-ringer, for later in the afternoon she was to strike 
the big bdl to announce some patriotic speech, or fiery 
oration, to be made in a sharp drive to sell the Liberty 
bonds. 

Lillie, seeing Nathalie coming in her direction, ad- 
vanced towards her, and immediately presented her 


lOO 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


soldier-friend, and in a few moments the three young 
people were having a sprightly chat. But Nathalie, 
soon recalled to the business on hand, turned and told 
the young vice-president why she was so anxious to see 
her. 

'' Yes; yes, indeed, Nathalie,” cried the girl quickly. 
“ I am Hooverizing this summer, and as I do not ex- 
pect to leave town until late in the fall, I shall be most 
delighted to accept the office of acting president for the 
summer.” 

A few moments later, relieved of her anxiety as to 
what would become of the Liberty Girls in case she 
went to the mountains, Nathalie thanked her friend, 
and hastened over to the Garden of Freedom, where 
nasturtiums, pink poppies, sweet peas, phlox, and other 
old-fashioned blooms peered at her in a riotous flaunt 
of color. 

The Girl Scouts, who were charmingly gotten up to 
represent flowers, beamed with pleasure as their presi- 
dent complimented them on the splendid display they 
made, and the honor they had won by their hard labor. 
They not only sold cut flowers, but potted plants, as well 
as toothsome sweets, made without sugar, they de- 
clared, as they coaxingly tempted Nathalie to sample 
a few. 

But she had time only for a nibble or two, and then 
she was off to the knitting booth, where a bewildering 
assortment of sweaters, helmets, mufflers, socks, and 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


lOI 


other knitted articles stared at her in a homespuney 
sort of way that reminded her of her grandmother. 
She remembered how, as a child, she used to watch her 
as she sat by the fire knitting, and the fun it was when 
the ball went rolling under the table and she scrambled 
after it. 

No, she could not hurry by this booth, for Marie’s 
eyes, big but shy, and bright with a beautiful soft black- 
ness, shone so pleadingly from the clear pallor of her 
ivory-tinted skin, that they could not be resisted. 
'' Oh, Mees President,” cried the girl in her soft mu- 
sical voice, ‘‘ I shall tell somethings on you. I likes that 
you look at mine table — iss it not shmardt, hein ? My 
mamma she says it iss stylish. Shure, und the peoples 
— oh, they buys und buys lots and lots of sweaters, 
und mufflers, und the helmets — yiss, ma’am, they have 
a glad on them, for they go fast mit the wind.” 

“ Yes, isn’t it lovely, Marie,” returned Nathalie, smil- 
ing into the limpid eyes, “ to think that every one is so 
patriotic, and so anxious to make the soldier-boys who 
are to fight for us, happy and comfortable? ” 

“ Shure, Mees, that iss because they are lovin’ much 
mit the liberty. Oh, here comes mine papa. He buys 
sweater of me. I likes that you speak mit mine papa, 
Mees,” exclaimed the little Jewess shyly, as her eyes 
again pleaded with Nathalie. 

The young president turned, to see a rather 
crumpled, mussy-looking little man by her side, who 


102 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


stared at her with sudden embarrassment as she 
quickly extended her hand in a cordial greeting to him. 

Mr. Katzkamof seized the outstretched hand and 
shook it nervously, while his bright black eyes beamed 
with good-natured surprise. “ I be glad to meet young 
Mees,” he cried hurriedly, who makes mine little girl 
be so happy. She sing, she smile all the day mit the 
liberty that you gives to her.’' 

‘‘ But / didn’t give it to her,” answered Nathalie 
quickly. God gave it to her. I am only trying to 
show her how to give it to those who haven’t learned 
what liberty means. But you,” she added quickly, 
“you are an American, — you love the liberty, too?” 
The girl raised her eyebrows inquiringly, somewhat 
frightened at her temerity, for she suddenly remem- 
bered that she had heard Edith say that the newsdealer 
was a fiery socialist. 

“ Yes, Mees, I be an American. I vote for the 
President. But I no like the war,” the black eyes 
hardened. “ It makes me cold in mine heart. I think 
it no right for the people to fight mit one und the other, 
likes the cat und the dog. They spill much of the 
blood. I am lovin’ mit the peace. I no fight.” 

“ Yes, it is a terrible thing to have to fight and kill 
one another,” replied the girl sadly. “ And the moth- 
ers, — oh, I feel so sorry for them, when they have to 
give up their boys to go and fight. But it must be 
done,” she added valiantly, although there was a catch 


THE STRANGE LETTER 


103 


in her breath as the thought of Dick came to her. 

“ Oh, no, Mees, if all the people say no fight, they be 
no soldiers, they be no war, we have the peace.” 

‘‘ Yes, but what kind of a peace,” exclaimed the girl. 
And then a sudden thought loomed big. “ Ah, Mr. 
Katzkamof, you love the Christ. Did He not die to 
make men free ? Shall we not die to give liberty to the 
world?” 

“ No, Mees, I ain’t lovin’ mit Krisht. I make noth- 
ings mit Him.” The man’s tone was surly, although 
he shrugged his shoulders carelessly. 

“ I beg your pardon,” cried Nathalie with reddening 
cheeks. And then, as if to recover lost ground. “ But 
you believe in God, your God, the God who brought the 
Israelites dry-shod over the Red Sea? And did He 
not command you to fight and drive out the enemies of 
God, the heathen, who did not serve him, and who 
were in the Promised Land ? And is not the Kaiser a 
Hun, a heathen, when he tortures and kills little chil- 
dren and women? Yes,” continued Blue Robin, im- 
pelled by some indefinable feeling to rush blindly on, 
'' this is God's war. He has commanded us to fight, to 
do away with tyranny and oppression. They must be 
overcome, so that all the world shall have liberty, and 
then, — why then we shall have peace, a peace that the 
Germans can’t destroy.” And then Nathalie smiled, 
although her heart was leaping in great bounds at her 
sudden boldness. But another thought had come, and, 


104 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


turning towards her companion, for she had turned to 
leave him, she added smilingly, “ And I am sure that 
you are big-hearted enough to be willing to fight, so 
that you can give to others the liberty that gives so 
much happiness to you ” 

The man’s eyes had brightened with a sudden 
strange light, and he opened his mouth to reply, but 
Nathalie had passed on, angry at herself for being so 
outspoken. But O dear! she felt so sorry for those 
poor ignorant people, who thought and did violent 
things just because they couldn’t reason, and didn’t un- 
derstand. 

But she had reached the Love booth, the name given 
by the girls to the tent where the comfort-kits were 
sold. By a pile on a seat in the rear she knew that 
business had been brisk, and that people had not only 
donated kits and then bought them back again, but had 
patriotically returned them to the sellers, so that they 
could be given to the soldier-boys. 

Blue Robin stood a moment and watched the girls, 
who, busy as bees, were selling their wares, as they 
chatted merrily over their sales, and then she turned to 
cross the lawn to the Red Cross booth. She had not 
gone more than a step or so, however, when a sudden 
clang of the liberty bell brought her to a halt. Oh, 
some one had bought a Liberty bond ; yes, three bonds, 
for the three clangs of the bell announced the number 
sold. Oh, it was still ringing ! What did it mean ? 


THE STRANGE LETTER 105 

She started to rush towards the booth where the 
bonds were being sold, and then glanced back at the 
booth she had just left, to see that the girls, in their 
eagerness to know who was buying so many bonds, — 
for the bell was still clanging, — had dropped their 
work and were rushing in frantic haste towards the 
booth. 

Nathalie smiled, and turned to follow after the group 
of girls who were speeding past her, when a sudden 
thought leaped into her mind. She halted and again 
glanced back at the Comfort-Kit booth. Not a girl 
was to be seen. Ah, now was her chance to get rid 
of that letter. The next moment she had turned and 
was flying back to the now deserted booth. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS 

A S Nathalie reached the booth she glanced quickly 
about; no one was in sight. With a hurried 
movement she drew a letter from the bag that 
hung from her wrist, and after glancing at the written 
words, “To whomsoever this Comfort Kit may come, 
greetings and good wishes,” she slipped out the enclos- 
ure and slowly read : 

“ Dear Mr. Soldier Boy : 

“ Please remember that you are going to fight under 
the banner of the Cross, which means that you belong 
to a Christian nation whose motto is, ‘ In God we 
Trust’ Hold to the feeling that you are a gentleman 
by the culture — not ‘ Kultur ’ — that comes from kind- 
liness, courtesy, and consideration for all people, so 
please don’t kill anybody unless you have to. 

“ Don’t forget that you are an American patriot, and 
that your heart is seared with the Stars and Stripes, 
which means the red of courage, the white of purity, 
and the blue of loyal devotion to the right, and starred 
with the divine fire of liberty. 

“ Remember you are fighting for the mothers and 
children ; yes, fighting so the mothers and children of 
all nations may have liberty and peace. Be strong and 
io6 


THE VISIT TO CAxMP MILLS 107 


brave in the thought that this war is to maintain the 
principles back of our flag, the ideals given to us by the 
founders of this nation. As Christ died to make men 
holy, so these men suffered and shed their blood that 
you might have the joy and independence that comes 
from the liberty which God has given to us. Be happy 
with the thought that no matter what comes to you, 
you will not have lived in vain, but will have fought 
for the grandest and greatest things in life, — liberty 
and humanity. The best of luck to you, 

“ Blue Robin.” 

Nathalie returned the letter to the envelope, and then 
rummaged under a pile of kits that had been filled and 
fastened, ready for the boys at camp, until she found 
one way down beneath the pile. She quickly opened it. 
Then something stayed her hand. 

“ No, it will not be a wicked thing to do, for it can’t 
do any harm,” she reasoned doubtfully; “and yet I 
just hate to do it, but I feel that I must do something 
to try to help some boy, who, perhaps, has a lagging 
spirit, whose heart may fail him when he thinks of 
what is before him, or who, perhaps, fails to realize the 
greatness of what we are fighting for, the way I did. 
This letter may spur him on, give him courage to do 
his best, perhaps, when he realizes the truth. And no 
one zvill knozv who Blue Robin is, and yet it will do for 
a name, as mother always says it is not considered fair 
to send an anonymous letter to any one, and I surely 
would not sign my own.” 

Nathalie heaved a deep sigh, and then, as if she 


io8 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


would not let herself have any more misgivings, she 
seized the letter and dropped it into the bag. A mo- 
ment later she was on her way to the Red Cross booth, 
to learn who had won the prize for buying the first Lib- 
erty bond. 

“ Oh, Nathalie, Dr. Morrow bought fifteen bonds ! ” 
came in an excited chorus from a group of girls, who 
were standing in front of the booth, chatting excitedly 
over this unlooked-for event. 

‘‘ Fifteen ? Oh, isn’t that just too lovely,” answered 
the girl. And then she hastily made her way towards 
the Morrow group, where the doctor, with the twins 
clinging excitedly to his coat-tails, — trying to climb up 
his back, he declared, — was signing the bond-certifi- 
cate that made each one of them the possessor of five 
bonds, and his wife the owner of five more. 

A Liberty button was now fastened to the doctor’s 
coat as a guarantee that he was a good patriot, and 
then he was presented with the prize, a box of Liberty 
candy from the Girl Scouts’ booth, something he never 
indulged in, he laughingly asserted, as he stood with 
the box in his hand, lookingly helplessly at it. But the 
twins did, and they quickly relieved him of it and were 
soon blissfully happy as they munched on the sweets. 

A good beginning must have brought the girls good 
luck, for as soon as Mrs. Van Vorst heard of this sale 
she followed the doctor’s example and invested in ten 
bonds, five for herself and five for Nita. A few more 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS 109 


followed suit, some buying two or three, while others 
only took one, but every little helped, the girl delight- 
edly cried, jubilantly happy at the many sales they were 
having. And then a surprise came, as her cousin Lu- 
cille pushed her way through those surrounding the 
booth, and bought three bonds, — one for herself, one 
for Dorothy, and one for Nathalie. 

“Oh, Lucille, don’t do that!” cried distressed Na- 
thalie with flushed cheeks. “ It is too much to give 
me. 

“ Indeed, it is not,” insisted Lucille smilingly, who 
could be very generous at times, as her cousin knew by 
the gift of her Pioneer uniform. “ I think you have 
worked hard enough for these Liberty Girls to have 
that much at any rate.” And several must have agreed 
with her, — judging by the nods and claps that came 
from those who were standing near and heard this re- 
mark. 

As Nathalie, sometime later, sat gathering up her 
certificates, — she had been kept busy all the afternoon 
making out the little blue and pink receipts that certi- 
fied as to her many sales, — Lillie came flying up. 

“ Oh, Nathalie, hasn’t it been a big success I ” she 
cried with gleaming eyes. “ And the patriotic speeches 
and recitations have been just fine. But, O dear ! ” she 
added with a sudden note of disappointment in her 
voice, “ there are a lot of things that have not been 
sold. Of course they will all go to the boys at camp. 


I lO 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


but I was in hopes that everything would be sold, so 
as to add to our fund for the bonds.” For those who 
had purchased that afternoon had patriotically returned 
the things they had bought, as their donation for the 
boys at camp, thus giving the girls an opportunity to 
use the purchase money for Liberty bonds. 

“ Yes, we have several sweaters and mufflers left,” 
announced Barbara, who had been talking to Nathalie, 
“ and poor Captain Molly is quite disappointed, as she 
was so sure that we should sell everything we had.” 

And we have a number of flowers and potted plants 
that have not been disposed of,” added a Girl Scout in 
a disappointed voice. 

But we can give those to the hospital,” answered 
Nathalie quickly, “ and give some sorrowful heart a 
bit of cheer.” 

Well, we have some boxes of candy, too,” added 
the Girl Scout dolefully, “ and they won’t do for the 
sick ones for — ” “ And we have some books left 

over,” interrupted another bystander. 

“ Oh, I have an idea, a big one, too,” broke in 
Helen, her eyes all of a glow. “ Why could we not 
have an auction sale? Of course a good many will re- 
turn what they buy, — and I think it will be lots of 
fun.” 

This idea was voted a good one, and a few minutes 
later Dr. Morrow announced from the Liberty plat- 
form that he was to act as auctioneer. A few brief 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS iii 


words of explanation and the auction was on. First a 
box of candy was bid for, which, after much laughter, 
was finally knocked down for one dollar, a much 
larger sum than it would have brought earlier in the 
afternoon. A few books were now disposed of, a 
pile of canned vegetables, a number of comfort-kits, 
and so on, until everything, even to the posters and 
decorations, had been auctioned off. 

As the girls were counting up the proceeds of this 
unexpected sale, old Deacon Perkins came up, and, 
after a few hems and haws, told the girls that if they 
wanted to make a raid on his cherry-trees the next 
morning, they could do so, and carry the fruit to the 
boys. They were to visit Camp Mills the following 
afternoon, and present their many donations to the 
young soldiers. 

“ Oh, isn’t that jolly good luck! ” ‘‘ Oh, that’s just 

glorious! ” and many similar outbursts of joy caused 
the old deacon to beam with complacent benignity. 
The Sport, with a little giggle, whispered to Lillie that 
she knew old Perkins had never felt so goody-goody in 
his life before, — he was called the meanest man in 
town. 

“ Yes, girls,” admonished Nathalie, after the old 
deacon had been overwhelmed with thanks, and had 
gone smilingly on his way, ‘‘ you will all have to get 
up very early to-morrow morning if you want those 
cherries, for you know we are to start for Mineola at 


I 12 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


an early hour, for it is some drive. Mrs. Morrow 
kindly offered me her car, so I asked her to be one of 
the chaperons. Mrs. Van Vorst is the other, and then 
Grace, you know, will take some of the party in her car. 

“ I am sorry,'’ her face sobered a little, '' but there 
will only be room in the three cars for the officers of the 
Club, and, — yes, I think we ought to ask Marie, Cap- 
tain Molly,” she explained, to ride with us, for you 
know, of course, that she can’t walk far. The rest of 
you girls will have to go by train, that is, those who 
want to go.” 

“ But we all want to go,” called out several voices 
eagerly, “ and we expected to go by train, for Lillie 
and Helen have given us a time-table, so we shall know 
just what to do, and we’ll meet you at the camp.” 

The raid on the cherry-trees proved “ a lark,” Edith 
declared, as, an hour or so before the girls started in 
the cars, she and Grace whizzed up in the car, filled 
with several baskets of cherries. A little later the 
three cars started for the camp, passing two or three 
groups of the girls on the road, en route for the depot. 
But they were soon left far behind as the cars whirled 
along the Merrick road, every one in the best of spirits, 
the little newsdealer so buoyantly happy to think that 
she was riding in the same car with the young presi- 
dent, that it did one good to look at her face, keenly 
aglow with delight. 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS 113 


Nathalie’s eyes were sparkling, too, for the little 
Jewess had just cried, ‘‘ Bend down your head, Mees 
President, for I likes I shall whisper mit you in your 
ear.” And then, as the girl had smilingly complied, 
she heard the happy announcement, “ My papa, he says 
like that you iss my friend, und so my papa he buy me 
a Liberty bond, for he says you are loving now mit 
me.” The owner of the pink ear into which these 
words had been loudly whispered, dimpled with pleas- 
ure, and then came the thought, “ O dear, I wonder if 
my little liberty lecture had anything to do with papa’s 
buying the bond ? ” 

There was a short stop at the Military Police guard- 
house, to learn the way around the encampment, where 
several soldier-boys, with the big letters M. P. on their 
arms, were viewed with much curiosity by the girls. A 
call at the hostess house now followed, where the gifts 
for the soldiers — the knitted articles, the books, candy, 
and fruits — were left, the girls reserving the baskets 
of cherries to distribute to the boys themselves. 

The slow ride through the encampment, with its 
streets flanked by brown and white tents, reminded 
Nathalie somewhat of an Indian encampment, and she 
gazed about with eager interest, as this was her first 
visit to an army post. The girls were specially inter- 
ested in the prisoners, — two or three men here and 
there guarded by a soldier-boy, — who were acting as 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


1 14 

White Wings by gathering up flying papers, or debris 
of any kind lying about, while other groups were dig- 
ging ditches or performing similar duties. 

But see,” cried one of the girls, “ the prisoners 
carry clubs, while the guard in the rear hasn’t any.” 

No, but he carries an automatic pistol in his trou- 
sers’ pocket,” answered Mrs. Morrow quickly, who had 
visited the camp many times; and if he should fire it, 
a crowd of soldiers would immediately surround the 
prisoners and disarm them. And then, too,” she 
added, you must remember that these prisoners, as a 
rule, are not real jailbirds, but just young, thoughtless 
lads who have probably been punished for what we 
would consider a very slight misdemeanor.” 

But they were now in what Mrs. Morrow called the 
“ chow ” quarters, that is, where the mess-tents were. 
It was quite an interesting sight to see a long line of 
soldiers, with their plates, cups, and pans in their 
hands, standing waiting for the eats ” at one of these 
tents. 

The girls, alert-eyed, watched them with more than 
the usual curiosity, for when they were supplied with 
food they came straggling out of the line with their 
“ chow ” and sat down here and there in groups, while 
others sat down on the street-curb and began their 
meal, using their laps for a table. This elicited many 
exclamations of surprise, especially when their direc- 
tor told them that Uncle Sam’s soldiers were not 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS 115 


allowed to sit at tables, but had to dine standing. 
Their denunciation of this system and their expressions 
of pity were loud, but when they were told that it was 
these very hardships to which a boy had to be inured 
that made him a well-trained soldier, they became 
somewhat reconciled to what they had seen. 

Just at this moment a sudden inspiration came to 
Nathalie, and, leaning forward, she whispered softly to 
Mrs. Morrow. That lady smiled and nodded approval 
evidently, and immediately brought the car to a stand- 
still so that Nathalie and Helen could alight. Going 
swiftly towards a couple of boys who were sitting on 
the curb, their eyes bright and keen, and their faces 
tanned to a rich brown, Nathalie said, somewhat tim- 
idly, I beg your pardon, but wouldn’t you young gen- 
tlemen — er — soldiers — ” she hastily corrected her- 
self laughingly, “ like to have some cherries to eat with 
your dinner ? ” 

Most assuredly we would,’’ responded one of the 
lads, a tall broad-shouldered chap with dark hair, from 
whose sun-tanned face two dark-lashed eyes looked 
down at her, with a half-smile in their blue. The boys 
had courteously risen and were standing at attention 
when the girl spoke. 

Nathalie’s cheeks took on a deeper pink, and then she 
turned, and the two girls walked back to the car with 
the boys in their wake. But unfortunately, as she at- 
tempted to lift one of the heavy baskets over the edge 


ii6 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


of the car, something jarred her elbow, and the next 
moment the basket had fallen to the ground with the 
cherries rolling all over the road. 

There was a loud shout from the boys, and then a 
dozen or more khaki-clad figures had rushed to the 
girl’s assistance, and presently soldier-boys and girls 
were all scrambling about in the dust of the road, gath- 
ering up the fruit. Indeed, by the time it was replaced 
in the basket, — for, of course, the girls had to polish 
off the dust from the luscious red fruit — they had all 
become very merry with one another. 

Several minutes later, as the car whirled around the 
corner of the long street, they saw the soldier lads 
gathered about the basket, while laughing and joking 
with one another in good-natured banter. Suddenly 
one of the boys looked up, and as he spied the now dis- 
appearing car he took off his cap and waved it in a 
parting salute. Nathalie smiled back, for she recog- 
nized this good-by as coming from the boy with the 
dark-lashed, blue eyes. 

Wasn’t that young soldier a handsome boy?’’ 
queried one of the girls admiringly, as the car flew 
along the level road. And what lovely blue eyes he 
had!” 

“ Yes, and that boy with the light hair was nice-look- 
ing, too,” chimed in Helen. He had such a frank 
way of looking you right in the eye. I’ll warrant you 
he’s no coward,” 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS ii7 

But the cherries and the boys in the “ chow ” quar- 
ters were forgotten as the girls drove by a group of 
buglers, who were sitting on the grass near a large 
tent, practicing on their bugles. Every eye was curi- 
ously watchful as the three cars went slowly past, for 
Mrs. Morrow, who was driving, had slowed up as she 
saw “ the camp alarm-clocks,” as she called them. 
Every head was bent forward and eyes grew big with 
alertness, for had the girls not set out that morning 
with the avowed intention of not missing anything 
worth seeing, and surely a group of soldier buglers was 
an interesting feature of the camp. 

They were a merry-eyed crowd, those boys with 
their happy, care-free faces under the brown hats with 
their gay-colored cords. All on undress parade, Helen 
declared, as she noted their brown flannel blouses and 
belts, as they knelt or stood upon the grass, blowing on 
their golden horns as Captain Molly called their brass 
instruments. 

Evidently they were not worrying about going over- 
seas, or losing their lives in No Man’s Land, but were 
good examples of live-wire American lads, with the 
grit inherited from their ancestors, the Yanks, in- 
spiring them to make good when called by Uncle Sam 
to the job of making war. 

The girls were alert and watchful, as they spied into 
open tents, or behind flying flaps, at the rows of tiny 
white cots, or at a few stray articles of clothing seen 


ii8 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


here and there, yes, even a pair of shoes set out in the 
sun to dry were objects of their silent adoration as 
they swung along the road. 

But now the scene had changed as they whirled 
along, for, instead of tents, the streets were lined with 
little wooden houses, or cabins, the barracks of the 
United States Aviation School at Mineola, which ad- 
joined Camp Mills. A stop at the hostess house was 
next in order, where a call was sent in for Dick. 

Twenty minutes later Nathalie was blithesomely 
happy, as she and her brother, over in a corner of the 
little wooden building, chatted about home news, — 
how mother was getting along, yes, and about the won- 
derful events that had occurred in the last few days. 
Then Nathalie turned inquisitor, and Dick was sub- 
jected to a series of questions in regard to his life as a 
war-eagle. In fact Nathalie’s questions were so many 
and so swiftly put that her brother declared that one 
would have thought that he was being interviewed by 
some expert reporter. 

Yes, reveille was at five in the morning, followed in 
half an hour by breakfast. His sister immediately 
asked, somewhat anxiously, if he got enough to eat. 

“ You bet your life I do,” was Dick’s laughing re- 
joinder. ‘‘ The ‘ eats ’ are O. K. — nothing to be 
added. At six,” he continued, “ I report at headquar- 
ters for flying, and then, with an instructor, learn a 
few flying stunts. I return to barracks at ten, and 


THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS 119 

from eleven until two-thirty have a ^ do-as-you-please 
time/ which includes luncheon, and, generally, a nap, 
for, by Jove!’’ exclaimed the young aviator, this 
flying business makes a fellow feel drowsy. 

“ Then we drill for a while, listen to a lecture,” he 
went on, and then again for a space I am a bird of 
the air. We dine about half -after eight, and at ten 
comes taps, or ‘ lights out.’ Anything more you would 
like to know, young lady ? ” he inquired teasingly. 
But Nathalie was satisfied, for surely her brother’s 
ruddy cheeks, tanned skin, and glowing eyes attested 
to what he called the joy-time of his life,” and a few, 
moments later the little party started for the aviation 
field. 

Here Dick conducted them around the field and 
showed them many kinds of aircraft, as aeroplanes, 
dirigibles, kite-balloons, serviceable in war; in fact, 
they were so well instructed as to the uses and 
mechanism of so many different machines that Mrs. 
Morrow declared that they would be well-versed in 
aeronautics. But the little personal stories that Dick 
told about the heroism of well-known war-eagles over 
in France made a stronger appeal to the girls, especially 
when he explained the several varieties of aviators and 
their special work. 

To the girls’ disappointment there was no flying go- 
ing on while they were on the field, but they were partly 
appeased when Dick showed them a group of students. 


120 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


aviation observers, he called them, who were learning 
to sketch from a miniature battlefield, and in this way 
learn how it would look from the air. As they were 
about to leave the field they saw some students bringing 
out a machine, to get it ready for flying, as testing the 
motor and so on. 

At this particular moment one of the girls uttered 
a sudden cry, and as all eyes glanced upward with 
newly awakened eagerness, they were rewarded by see- 
ing an aeroplane returning from a training flight. 
As Nathalie gazed eagerly at the machine that flew like 
some strange monster above their heads, the perils of 
flying in space came to her with a sudden, keen realiza- 
tion, and, with a sickening pang as to what might hap- 
pen to Dick some day, her eyes darkened with appre- 
hensive terror and she turned hastily away. But Dick, 
catching sight of the girl’s pale face and fear-haunted 
eyes, as if to divert her mind from dismal forebodings, 
called attention to the camp mascot, a little yellow po- 
lice-dog, who was standing by his master, equipped, 
like him, with goggles. The girls were soon laughing 
heartily as Dick told of the dog’s alertness in doing 
“ stunts,” and the eagerness he showed when waiting 
to take a flight in one of the machines. 


CHAPTER VIII 


SEVEN PILLARS 

N athalie, seated in a low chair at one end of 
the broad white veranda, gazed with rapt in- 
tentness at the sun-hazed landscape, rising in 
green, undulating waves against the purple blur of the 
towering mountain-heights, that stretched in wide ex- 
panse before her, with a strange, mystical beauty. 

Into her eyes, city-tired, came rest, as they swept 
over the velvet green of the meadow, splashed with the 
bloom of wild flowers, its scrubby bushes aglow with 
pink spires, and its spruces and maples standing upright 
with the slimness of youth, as it sloped gently down to 
the glen below. The trees of the glen, closely massed 
in a rich, feathery green, sombered by the darker line 
of the pines and firs, to the girl seemed weird and mys- 
terious. 

Her eyes quickly gathered in the stillness of the sunny 
slopes that rose from the darker hollow in squares of 
yellow cornfields, or the light green of unripe wheat or 
grain, and the brown of mountain meadow-land, dotted 
with browsing cows. Here and there a lone farm- 
121 


122 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


house stood forth on some higher knoll, or, from a 
background of forest land, came the bright red of a 
solitary barn ; while still higher, a hotel, its gables and 
chimneys spying upward, glimmered picturesquely 
from the green. And beyond all, high and dark, with 
majestic brooding silences, rose the jagged ridge of 
mountain blue, its peaks looming with a strange dis- 
tinctness against the clear, soft blue of the sky, while 
sweeps of white cloudlets trailed like films of spun silk 
across their tops. 

The girl closed her eyes as if to imprint upon her 
subconsciousness the rare loveliness of the scene, and 
then, as if fearful that in some passing, whimsical 
mood the picture would flash out of view, she opened 
them quickly. At that moment a passing breeze flut- 
tered the pages of a letter lying on a table by her side. 
With sudden recollection she caught them up, and then 
as if to impress upon her mind what she had written, in 
a soft, low tone read : 

“ Dear Helen : 

I presume you are now in glorious La France, won- 
dering why you have not heard from me. But my ex- 
cuse is this magnificent mountain scenery, and my new 
duties, which have taken every minute of my time un- 
til to-day. We came up on the fifteenth from New 
York. Mother knitted and read during the ten-hour 
ride, while I wished inexpressibly good things for 
Mrs. Van Vorst for renting our little dovecote, and 
planned liberty work. I have decided to adopt the 


SEVEN PILLARS 


123 


club^s motto, ‘ Liberty and Humanity — our best,’ 
for the summer’s watchword. As it means to try and 
be helpful and kind to people, whether I like them or 
not, wish me success, for I have undertaken some- 
thing big. 

“ Mr. Banker, my aunt’s lawyer, met us at the Little- 
ton station with his car. He is a tall, lean man, but 
his brown eyes have a quizzical gleam in them that 
makes you feel that you are affording him some amuse- 
ment. The seven-mile ride up one mountain slope and 
down another, in the shade of the woods that gloomed 
dark and weird on each side of the road, with the hush 
of the gloaming in their moist depths, was most enjoy- 
able. 

“ From out of their rustling shadows the white 
birches and poplars peered at us like ghosts, while the 
resinous aroma from the pines made us sniff with de- 
light. Mountain villages with a straggle of white cot- 
tages, and grizzly gray churches, in a setting of purple 
mountain-peaks, strangely somber and still, as they 
stood forth from feathery masses of clouds tinted with 
sunset’s glow, with gossamer wreaths of mist floating 
above them, stilled us to a mute ecstasy of sheer joy. 

Stone gate-posts, beds of old-time posies, backed 
by cobble-stone walls with hedges of green, and a little 
white house, like a keeper’s lodge, peered curiously out 
of the silver shadows of the rising moon as we whizzed 
up the roadway to Seven Pillars, and came to a stop un- 
der the porte-cochere of a large, white mansion, set on 
a green knoll, facing the rocky heights of far-distant 
mountains. Here square glass lanterns threw yellow- 
ish gleams on the wide, low veranda, with its seven 
magic pillars, — round, fluted columns reaching high 
above the second-story windows, as with lofty stateli- 
ness they held the pointed dome above the portico. 


124 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


‘‘ Passing through the quaint, white-columned door- 
way, with its tiny panes of glass and shiny brass 
knocker, we stood, dazed and tired, in a broad, gloomy 
hall, where, in the flare from a snapping log-fire, nu- 
merous trophies of the hunt eyed us glassily, as we 
were welcomed by my cousin, Janet Page, and her sis- 
ter, Cynthia. 

“Janet is a winsome thing. We have already be- 
come great chums, although she is a few years older 
than your lonesome. She is short and plump, with a 
white, satiny skin, and apple-blossom cheeks that make 
you feel that you want to kiss the pink of them. Her 
eyes fairly beam with kindliness as she looks at you 
from under her short, wavy brown hair. She's a pacif- 
ist and a suffragist, and aims to be a farmerette. Al- 
though she has decided ideas on the war and voting 
questions, they are rather vague on farming, but she 
goes about saying, ‘ God speed the plow and the 
woman who drives it’ 

“ Cynthia Loretto Stillwell — she always insists on 
the Loretto, as it is the sole heritage from some Italian 
ancestor, famed for his noble birth and deeds of valor 
— is not my own cousin, as she is the daughter of my 
uncle’s wife, who was a widow when they married. 
She is distinctively tall, somewhat angular, with sharp 
features, a drooping, discontented mouth, and a sal- 
low skin which she endeavors to hide by dabs of white 
and pink powder. Her eyes are large and dark, and 
would be handsome, if they did not repel you at times 
by their hard, metallic glitter. Her coiffure is a won- 
derful combination of braids, curls, and puffs, and 
made me wonder how she did it. She greeted us effu- 
sively, but somehow its warmth seemed cold and arti- 
ficial, and — well, I don’t believe I’m going to like her. 

“After our hunger was appeased, — Janet said she 


SEVEN PILLARS 


125 


got the supper, as we shall have to be our own maids up 
here, — Mr. Banker ‘ personally conducted ’ us through 
many high-ceiled rooms with recessed window-seats, 
big doors, and dark closets, up winding stairways, and 
through rambling corridors. The antique furniture, 
carved and black-looking, musty-smelling and stuffy, 
made one feel as if long-ago-dead people were peering 
at you from the eerie shadows of the hide-and-seeky 
nooks. 

“ Mr. Banker then read my aunt’s letter of instruc- 
tion, — an odd document, as it stated that each one of 
‘ we girls,’ — as Cynthia calls us, — she’s almost as old 
as mumsie, — during our stay is to search the house for 
the most valuable thing in it. And the lucky finder of 
the ‘ mysterious it,’ as Jan and I call the valuable 
thing, is to inherit something. Whether this some- 
thing is property, or money, or just some personal 
effects of my aunt’s, I don’t know, for that letter was 
so queer it made me feel creepy. And once, when I 
glanced up, it really seemed as if her eyes were glaring 
menacingly at me from a large portrait of her which 
hangs over the library mantel. 

“ Each one of us is to keep a diary, and if we have 
not looked for ‘ It ’ each day, we are to state what 
particular thing prevented us. We can search every 
nook and corner in the house but one room, the mystery 
room, as we call it, which is on the second floor, and 
barred and locked so that no one can enter. Mother 
only laughs when Janet and I talk about ' It,’ and de- 
clares that the whole thing is just my aunt’s eccentric 
way of doing things. You know mother spent a sum- 
mer up here with her when I was a wee tot, and my 
aunt grew very fond of me. 

“ Although I have had no time as yet to search for 
the mystery of mysteries, my first entry in my diary 


126 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


reads: ‘Arose at 7 a. m. and prepared breakfast. 
Cooked three meals and did housework all day, and 
am too tired to do anything but go to bed. Jan 
meant to help me, but she had to hurry with her 
plowing, and Cynthia Loretto says she never does 
housework, as it makes her hands rough.’ 

“ You would laugh if you could see Jan scratching 
the earth with a baby rake. She was going to plant 
before she plowed, and hadn’t the slightest idea as to 
the proper time and way of planting her seeds. But 
she looks a dear in a smock and a big pink sunbonnet 
that matches the pink in her cheeks and on her nose, 
for her dear little snub has burned to the same color. 

“ It is great sport to see her take the stump, as I 
call it, and hold forth on woman suffrage. She talks 
beautifully, is so earnest and looks so sweet, and, as 
mumsie says, knows so little about it from a common- 
sense point of view. But when Cynthia Loretto sud- 
denly appears and squelches her eloquence by wither- 
ingly ordering her to do something for her, — she 
bosses her dreadfully, — poor Jan drops from her ped- 
estal and crawds about with the meekness of a mouse 
for the rest of the day. 

“ I was afraid my dreams of teaching liberty were 
doomed to oblivion, for there don’t seem to be any girls 
about to form a club, when one day, while reading the 
paper, an inspiration came. Fi-fo-fum, I have writ- 
ten to Mrs. Van Vorst, and she is going to send me 
three little slum boys, and I am not only going to give 
them the joy-time of their lives, but teach them ‘ Lib- 
erty and Humanity — your best.’ When I asked Mr. 
Banker if there would be any objection to having these 
little waifs, he not only consented, but said he w^ould 
pay their way up here. Isn’t that the dandiest thing 
going? 

“ Mother objected at first, but when I said I would 


SEVEN PILLARS 


127 


teach them to wash the dishes — how I hate that job! 
— and to do chores about the house, she only said, 
‘ Well, you will have to make the bread then, for three 
hulking boys will eat a cartful,^ — you know mother i? 
the bread-maker. Then her eyes twinkled, and I had 
to hug her good and tight, for I knew she was just test- 
ing my ‘ I can ' motto. 

Janet thought the idea fine, but when Cynthia Lor- 
etto heard of it she declared that she hated boys, they 
were such horrid, smelly things, — one would have 
thought they were weeds, — and that she would not 
have them in the house. Well, I was not going to be 
bossed by her, so promptly told her in my bestest man- 
ner — I am always very cool and sweet when awfully 
mad — what Mr. Banker had said. Well, that silenced 
her, but I can foresee that she will make trouble for my 
little liberty kids, for that’s what they’re going to be. 

Did I tell you that Cynthia is an artist ? Her 
studio is up in the little square cupola, or tower that 
crowns the house. Here she paints, and sleeps until 
all hours of the morning, for she slumbers in a beauty- 
mask — Janet let that out — and it has to be kept on 
until noon. Janet has to bring up her coffee every 
morning. At dinner my lady with ‘ the manner ’ and 
artistic temperament appears in a freakish ^et-up. 
Yesterday she was a Neapolitan maiden in a red skirt 
and blue bodice, with a rug for an apron, and a white 
cloth on her head. She dresses this way to create at- 
mosphere, she declares, as she is her own model, and 
paints herself in a big mirror, that she got Sam to lug 
up from one of the lower rooms. 

“ She can be extremely disagreeable, for yesterday, 
while I was on one of my mountain prowls — mother 
was taking a nap — she was sitting on the veranda in 
one of her outlandish costumes, when an odd, little old 


128 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


lady came along in a black poke-bonnet, carrying a bas- 
ket on her arm. As soon as Cyn saw that basket she 
jumped up and ordered the old lady off the premises, 
saying that we could not be bothered with peddlers. 

“ The poor old soul immediately turned about and 
hobbled away, muttering and mumbling to herself, for 
Jan heard her as she came up the path from her minia- 
ture hillside farm. Mother was quite annoyed when 
she heard about it, for she said that she was undoubt- 
edly one of the neighbors, and had brought us some- 
thing in the basket to be friendly, as country people 
do. I think Cynthia should have allowed her to rest 
on the veranda, even if she was a peddler. 

I must close my letter if I want to get it in this 
mail, as I have to walk almost a mile to post it. So, 
with a bushel of kisses and good wishes, I am as ever 
your friend 

“ Nathalie Page. 

P. S. Be sure you tell me all about your work, 
and if you are anywhere near the front-line trenches. 
I am wild to know. Again, with love, 

“ Blue Robin.” 

As Nathalie stood by the window putting on her hat 
in front of the old-fashioned dresser, her eyes suddenly 
widened. “ Why, isn’t that the strangest ? ” she quer- 
ied, as she stepped nearer the casement and stared 
down at the farther end of the lawn, where, from be- 
tween the fringe of woodland on the side dividing their 
garden from their neighbor’s, came the glimmer of a 
little red house, fronting the road. 

Why,” said the girl, almost wonderingly, “ that 
red house glimmers through the trees in the form of a 


SEVEN PILLARS 


129 


cross.” Then her eyes brightened with the sudden 
thought, “ I do believe it has come that way on purpose, 
and, yes, I am going to let it be my Red Cross insignia, 
warning me that I h-ave work to do this summer by not 
losing my temper, and by being kind to people, even if 
it is that irritating Cynthia Loretto. 

“ I wonder who lives in that little red house,” solilo- 
quized the girl. I must ask Sam. Ah, I remember 
now. I saw an old lady with silver-gray hair, the 
other day, poking about in that little flower-garden; 
she seemed to be weeding. Well, those flowers cer- 
tainly repay her for her care, for they are a mass of 
bloom and color.” And then Nathalie, humming a 
snatch of melody, turned away and hurried down the 
stairway. 

Some time later, on her way to the post-office at the 
near-by village of Sugar Hill, as she passed the red 
house she again saw the old lady with the silver hair, 
in a flopping sunbonnet, digging in the garden. She 
raised her head as she heard Nathalie's footsteps, and 
the girl, with smiling eyes, pleasantly bowed a good- 
afternoon. But, to her surprise, the old lady stared at 
her rudely for a moment, and then, without returning 
her greeting, went on with her weeding. 

“ What a disagreeable old lady ! ” was the girl's sud- 
den thought, the blood rushing to her cheeks in a crim- 
son flood. “ Why, I always thought country people 
were pleasant and chatty with their neighbors. Well,” 


130 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


she murmured ruefully, in an attempt to ignore the 
slight, “ perhaps the poor old thing is near-sighted. 
No, I won’t worry, for, as mumsie says, it is just as 
well not to be in a hurry to think that people mean to be 
rude to you.” 

So the little incident was forgotten, as she wended 
her way along the road, cool and dark with the mois- 
ture and shade from the woodland that fringed it on 
each side. On one side the trees screened green hills 
and sloping meadows, while on the other they guarded 
Lovers’ Lane, a narrow footpath, skirting the base of 
Garnet Mountain, that rose upward in scrubby, brown- 
ish pasture-land to its summit, crowned with dense 
masses of green foliage. 

Nathalie hummed softly, in tune to the ripple of a 
tiny brooklet from a spring near by, that trickled and 
splashed in a low murmur over its pebbly bed in the 
ditch, fringed with straggling wild flowers in flaunting 
July bloom. They were too luring to be resisted, and 
presently the beautiful dull pink of the Joe-Pye weed, 
saucy black-eyed Susans, yellow buttercups, wild car- 
rot, and blue violets, nodded gayly from the nosegay 
pinned to her blouse. 

A short walk and the woods had been left behind, as 
the girl stood on a wide-spreading knoll with the rock- 
lit eyes of Garnet Mountain peering down at her on 
her right, while on the left grassy meadows stretched 
away into velvety slopes. Their green was crossed 


SEVEN PILLARS 


131 

by low stone walls, patched with the gray of apple or- 
chard, and ribboned with avenues of stately trees, or 
fringes of woodland, but always ending in the rugged 
grandeur of craggy summit. 

Nathalie drew a deep breath of the sweet-scented 
mountain breezes, as her eyes dwelt on the scene before 
her, for to her every blade of grass, or feathery fern, 
as well as each peeping floweret, wide-spreading tree, 
or gray bowlder, were but details that added to the 
charm of each day’s mountain-picture. The rare 
splendor of the scene inspired her, as it were, to new 
thoughts and feelings, vague and undefined, but the 
shadow of things to come, in the birth of ideals and 
words that were to find expression later on. 

But now she was strolling along under an avenue of 
stately maples, bordered by a stone wall almost hid- 
den with clambering vines, until presently she had 
passed by another silent greenwood, to arrive at a lit- 
tle white church, set on rising ground. A swift turn 
and she was walking down the flagged street of the 
mountain village, sheltered with friendly old trees, and 
lined with the usual straggle of white cottages, blurred 
with the red of an old barn, while just beyond, against 
the pearl gray of the horizon, rose the jagged line of 
the Green Mountains. 

She glanced admiringly at the tiny Memorial Library 
perched conspicuously on a terrace opposite, and then 
she was at the post-office, once a small white cottage. 


132 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


but now used by Uncle Sam as a mail distributor, the 
lounging-resort of aged mountaineers and sons of the 
soil. Here, too, the village gentry, as well as the citi- 
fied summer folk from the boarding-houses and hotels 
on the upper slopes of Sugar Hill, lingered for a chat 
or a word of greeting when they came for the mail. 

After slipping her letter into the box, Nathalie found 
that although the mail had come in it had not been 
distributed, so she decided to wait for it. With ill- 
concealed impatience, for she hated to linger in the 
stuffy little store, she leaned idly against a glass case, 
in which one saw the yellow-brown of maple-sugar 
cakes, the red and white of peppermint sticks, as well as 
post-cards of mountain views, and pine pillows. As it 
was the only store within a radius of some miles, its 
wares were numerous and varied, as almost anything, 
from a loaf of bread, a lollypop, or a case of needles, to 
a bottle of patent medicine, was on sale. 

Suddenly, as if impelled by some unknown power, 
the girl raised her eyes to encounter the bold stare of a 
tall young man in a gray Norfolk jacket, knicker- 
bockers, and high leather boots, who was noncha- 
lantly leaning against the opposite counter, with his cap 
pushed on the back of his head, smoking a cigar. 


CHAPTER IX 

THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE RED HOUSE 

T he girl turned her head quickly aside, for there 
was something in the ill-concealed admiration 
in the man’s black eyes that caused the color 
to rush in a wave to her cheeks. Several minutes later 
a careless glance in the man’s direction, as she casually 
surveyed the other occupants of the store, impelled her 
to stare curiously, as she perceived a rather peculiar 
motion, — a sudden twitching shake of his head, re- 
peated every moment or so. Realizing that the man 
was the victim of some nervous affliction, her eyes in- 
voluntarily softened with pity, and then noting that 
there were several letters in her box, she hurried for- 
ward to get them. 

Slipping them into her bag, she hastened from the 
store, drawing quickly back, however, as the man who 
had been staring at her brushed rudely against her. 
Nathalie glanced up with annoyance, but as he begged 
her pardon, with a sweep of his cap in an exaggerated 
bow, and another bold, somewhat mocking glance from 
his eyes, the pink in her cheeks deepened angrily. 

133 


134 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Nathalie, irritated at the incident, walked slowly 
down the narrow path leading to the flagging, but sud- 
denly remembering her determination to explore the 
little village set in the hollow of a hill, the unpleasant 
occurrence passed from her mind. Attracted by the 
many flower-beds that bloomed so luxuriantly with 
such vivid coloring in the door yards of the little New 
England cottages beyond the post-oflice, she turned 
about and slowly strolled in that direction. 

Presently she came to a sudden pause to gaze ad- 
miringly across the road at a white, gable-roofed house, 
with bright green blinds, on a grassy terrace, peeping 
from beneath a mass of vines and leaves. It was sur- 
rounded by a garden from which came the gleam of 
many colors, in the tall, flowering rows of sweet peas 
that flanked its sides. But it was not so much their 
beauty that held her eyes as the small east wing of the 
building, where a wide, roomy porch was surmounted 
by the sign. 

The Sweet Pea Tea-House 
Come in and have a cup of tea 

Nathalie would have enjoyed going over and having 
a sip of that social beverage, lured by the daintiness 
of the house and its sweet-pea garden, but, on dis- 
covering that she had left her purse at home, she con- 
tinued her walk. A few steps down the road, and she 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


135 


was staring up at a timeless clock — looking as if its 
hands had been swept away in the mad rush of the 
hours — in the steeple of a church some distance back 
from the road. Then she was watching a horseshoer 
pounding with a noisy Clank, clank ” on the hoof of 
a horse, patiently standing in front of the blacksmith 
shop. 

A half-hour later, as she stood in front of a little 
neglected cemetery at one end of the village, staring in 
melancholy mood at its time-scarred stones, gleaming 
with a dulled whiteness from the rank and overgrown 
shrubbery, she heard the purr of an automobile. 

Turning carelessly, she noticed a bright red car, with 
the glossy, shiny look of newness, coming slowly in her 
direction, and quickly perceived that its only occupant 
was the bold-eyed man who had annoyed her in the 
post-office. She quickly glanced in another direction, 
but, to her surprise, the car came to a sudden stop, and 
as the man threw away his cigar, while doffing his cap, 
he said, pleasantly, You have chosen rather a dreary 
place to linger, have you not, on this beautiful after- 
noon? Would you not like a little ride, — just a help 
Up the hill, you know ? ” 

For a moment Nathalie was tongue-tied with as- 
tonishment, and was about to walk quickly away, when 
sudden resentment at the man’s impertinence over- 
whelmed her. Swinging about, with marked empha- 
sis she answered in stiff formality, “ Possibly I might 


136 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


— with friends.” The next second she was hurrying 
down the road, without waiting to see the man’s eyes 
darken with annoyance, as he emitted a low whistle. 
With the peculiar motion of the head already referred 
to, he started up the car, and a moment later whirled 
around the bend out of sight. 

Nathalie in her haste, caused by her anger and an- 
noyance at the man’s impertinence, was oblivious to 
the fact that the clouds had been gathering for a 
thunderstorm, until she heard a loud clap of thunder 
and a drop of rain swirled into her face. She was 
tempted to start and run, for she was an arrant coward 
in a thunderstorm, but remembering that a swiftly 
moving object is apt to attract the lightning, she cur- 
tailed her speed, trying to make as much headway as 
she could by extra long strides. 

Oh, it was coming down in great big drops ! What 
should she do? But with her heart thumping nerv- 
ously, she kept resolutely on her way, covering her 
face with her hands in a spasm of terror every time a 
streak of lightning zigzagged before her eyes. Oh, 
she had reached the tea-house! She would take refuge 
on the wide veranda. 

The next instant she was racing across the road ; but 
before she gained the desired haven, a deafening clap 
of thunder, followed by a blinding glare of red flame, 
came bolting through the trees, causing her to utter a 
loud, frightened scream, as she stumbled blindly up 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


137 


the steps. Another instant and the door of the house 
was flung wide, as a sweet-faced lady, with pleasant, 
smiling eyes, hurriedly beckoned for her to hasten in. 

Nathalie, with a little cry of relief, made a wild rush 
for the door. As the lady closed it, with shaking limbs 
and white lips, but with an attempt at a smile the girl 
cried, “ Oh, you are very kind to let me come in, for 
I am just about drenched ’’ ; quickly pulling off her hat 
as she spoke, and then shaking her wet, clinging skirts. 

‘‘ Oh, my dear child ! you must come in and take off 
your wet things,” at this moment came in sudden call 
from an adjoining room, whose door was standing 
ajar. Nathalie started in surprise, for the voice was 
singularly low and sweet, in strange contrast to the 
somewhat high-sounding, rather unpleasant voices of 
the few villagers whom she had heard conversing, 
when waiting for her mail in the post-office. 

Fearing she would be intruding, — she had noticed 
that the lady who had opened the door for her, al- 
though she smiled pleasantly, had not seconded the in- 
vitation, — she shook her head. ‘‘ Oh, no,” she pro- 
tested with evident embarrassment, “ I shall not take 
cold. I can stand here until the storm is over. I am 
sure I shall be all dry in a moment or so.” 

But as the voice insisted that she come in, and the 
woman with the smiling eyes laid her hand on her 
arm as if to lead her into the room, she reluctantly 
entered. As she attempted to stammer forth her 


138 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


thanks, and her fear of trespassing upon their kindness, 
she saw that the owner of the voice was an elderly lady, 
evidently an invalid, for she sat in a Morris chair by 
the window, propped up with pillows. As she mo- 
tioned for the girl to come nearer, and slowly and awk- 
wardly put forth her hand to feel her wet skirts, Na- 
thalie noticed that her hands were swathed with white 
cloths. 

“ Dear me,’^ she murmured worriedly, you are wet. 
I am afraid you will take cold. But just take off your 
blouse and skirt, and Mona will dry them for you in a 
few moments by the kitchen fire.’’ 

Then, with a few strange motions of the bandaged 
hands to the sweet-faced woman, — which immediately 
revealed to Nathalie that she was deaf and dumb, — 
the wet garments were quickly removed and taken out 
to the kitchen to dry. Presently the girl, with humor- 
ous amazement, found herself snugly wrapped in a silk 
Japanese kimono, seated in a big chair by the invalid 
lady, gazing at her in silent admiration. 

It was a face that could lay no real claim to beauty, 
and yet to Nathalie there was a singular charm in the 
clear-cut outlines of the delicate features, and the soft, 
warm tints of a complexion that, although many years 
past youth’s fresh coloring, resembled a blush-rose. 
But it was the eyes that held Nathalie, black-lashed, 
deep-set, with a calm, peaceful expression in their 
deep blue ; and the brown hair, slightly, threaded with 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


139 


gray, parted in the middle, and curling in a natural 
wave on each side of her face, gave it the quaint sweet- 
ness of some old-time miniature. 

Fascinated, as it were, by the charm of the lady’s 
personality, the girl was soon chatting volubly, as she 
told how she came to get caught in the storm. ** I 
am sure I should have reached home before the rain 
came,” she cried in an aggrieved voice, ‘‘if it had not 
been for that horrid man. For I intended going home 
by the road he took, which is much shorter, but he had 
made me so nervous by his rudeness that I took the 
longest way back, for I was afraid I should meet him 
again.” 

“ Oh, you must not feel annoyed at receiving an in- 
vitation to ride in an automobile when trudging up 
these mountain roads,” laughed the lady, “ for it is 
quite the customary thing to give a pedestrian a lift 
up the hills. But I think, in your case,” she added 
more soberly, “ that you did right in refusing the man’s 
offer, for he was rude, as you say, and all young girls 
should be careful.” 

Won by her companion’s sympathetic interest, Na- 
thalie told that they were spending the summer at 
Seven Pillars, up near “ Peckett’s on Sugar Hill,” but 
she was cautious not to tell of the peculiar conditions of 
their stay, or of her aunt’s strange letter. Miss Whip- 
ple, as that proved to be the lady’s name, said that she 
had known her aunt, Mrs. Renwick, and considered 


140 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


her a very interesting woman, although, to be sure, she 
was somewhat eccentric. Nathalie also told about her 
Liberty Girls, a subject that was always close to her 
heart, and how she was going to try to teach liberty 
to the little settlement-boys, who were coming up to 
stay with her for a few weeks. 

The invalid, and also her sister, were both greatly 
interested in Nathalie’s merry chatter; for Mona had 
come from the kitchen and seated herself on a low 
stool by the feet of her sister, who would interpret to 
her as the girl rattled on. In return for Nathalie’s 
confidences she told how she and her sister, although 
having been born in the White Mountains, had lived 
since childhood in Boston. On the death of their 
parents, after meeting with some reverses, she ex- 
plained, they had determined to come up to the old 
homestead and start a sweet-pea farm, as her sister 
was passionately fond of flowers. 

It was delightful work, she said, and it meant so 
much that was beautiful and joyous to her sister, who, 
of course, on account of her infirmity, was deprived of 
many pleasures that other people enjoyed. They had 
an old farm-hand who had lived with them when they 
were small children, who did the rough gardening, and 
who made the farm pay by selling the flowers to the 
mountain hotels. 

‘‘ The tea-house was my sister’s inspiration,” con- 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


141 

tinned Miss Whipple, “ and has always been a source 
of great enjoyment to us both, as so many of the young 
people from the hotels and boarding-houses would 
drop in of an afternoon for a cup of tea, or a little 
dance, as I always used to make it a point to be on 
hand to play for them. My sister,” she added a little 
sadly, “ although deprived herself of the joys of girl- 
hood, has always been passionately devoted to the 
young, and has spent any amount of labor in trying to 
make our little tea-room attractive. 

But now, as I cannot play any more, — you see I 
am the victim of inflammatory rheumatism,” — she held 
up her bandaged hands pathetically, — “ the young peo- 
ple do not come in as much as they did. It is a great 
disappointment to us both,” concluded the invalid dole- 
fully, ‘‘ although perhaps my sister is partly compen- 
sated by her work among her flowers. 

“ But I am wrong to complain in this way,” she 
hastened to add, a sudden expression of contrition 
darkening the sweetness of her glance, “ for every one 
has to endure disappointment and sorrow, sooner or 
later, as my mother used to tell me when I was a girl ; 
and, after all, ours might have been much worse. I 
try to comfort myself with the thought that all these 
little jars of life are just ' helps ’ to fit one for the 
greater life beyond. Indeed,” she added softly, “ I 
grow ashamed of myself for thinking I am even dis- 


142 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


appointed, when I think of the renunciation, the suf- 
ferings, and the agony of the Man of Sorrows, that we 
might have joy.” 

Nathalie made no reply, not only because she was 
at a loss for words to express her sympathy, but stilled, 
possibly, by the beautiful look of calm peace that had 
crept into the sweet eyes. 

But I am wearying you,” smiled the invalid, her 
eyes lighting with a warm glow, “ making you think 
I am a great martyr because I am deprived of a few 
things that I think needful to my happiness. Perhaps 
I am in a particularly rebellious mood to-day, for I am 
so anxious to read a book a friend sent me, but with 
my poor hands I cannot hold it, and it makes my neck 
ache to read from the bookstand. But here comes 
Mona with your dried clothing; yes, and to bring me 
oif my cross of martyrdom by her sweet patience, for 
she is always cheery and smiling under her great dep- 
rivations.” 

Oh, and she can’t even read to you ! ” lamented 
Nathalie impulsively, suddenly reminded of what it 
must mean to live with a person who could not talk to 
you. 

‘‘ Yes, and that is one of the nails in the cross,” 
said the shut-in, with whimsical sweetness, for I not 
only want some one to talk, to read to me, but some- 
times I just yearn for the sound of a human voice. 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


143 


Oh, but I am getting selfish again — for, — Yes, as 
soon as you get your gown on, you must go with Mona 
to see her sweet peas ; she would love to show them to 
you/’ 

“ And I would love to see them,” replied the girl as 
she dropped the kimono and slipped into her skirt, 
“ for I, too, adore flowers.” And then, as Nathalie 
fastened up her blouse, and put on her belt. Miss Whip- 
ple made her sister understand that their guest wanted 
to see her bunches of sweet peas. 

Mona’s face lighted happily as she comprehended, 
and in a few moments she and Nathalie were standing 
in an outer shed, where masses of the dainty flowers 
were piled in heaps, waiting to be tied into bunches, 
their delicate odor filling the place with quite per- 
ceptible fragrance. Nathalie watched the deaf-and- 
dumb woman tie a few bunches, dimpling in gratified 
embarrassment as she softly touched the blossoms. 
She held a beautifully pink-tinted one against the girl’s 
cheek, to indicate that they were of the same hue, and 
then smilingly fastened a big bunch to her waist. 

By this time the worst of the storm was over, and 
Nathalie, seeing that it had settled down to a slow driz- 
zle, decided that she must hurry on, for fear her 
mother would worry. So, after thanking her kind 
hostesses, and declaring that she would return their 
umbrella very soon, — she had promised to make them 


144 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


a real visit, as Miss Whipple called it, in answer to 
their repeated urgings, — she hurried out into the rain 
and was soon on her homeward way. 

It was not a pleasant walk, this plodding over a road 
deep with mud, and in some places running in tiny 
rivulets, for the girl had no rubbers on, but she kept 
up her cheer by whistling softly, for not a person was 
in sight until she reached the road through the woods, 
leading to Seven Pillars. Here she spied a queer- 
looking little figure in black, hobbling on ahead of her 
with a cane, but no umbrella. 

Something, perhaps it was the basket the woman 
carried, suggested that she might be the old lady who 
had called the afternoon before, so the girl hurried 
her steps, hoping, by the proffer of her umbrella, to 
atone for the seeming rudeness of her reception of the 
previous day. 

As she reached the black figure, she pantingly cried, 

Oh, won’t you come under my umbrella, for I am 
sure you must be wet.” As she spoke she peered at 
the woman’s face, almost hidden by the wide brim of 
an old, rusty-looking black bonnet. But the bright 
blue eyes in the withered face, under its halo of black, 
only stared coldly, stonily, while the drooping mouth, 
seamed with a network of fine wrinkles, and deep lines 
of worry and disappointment, narrowed into a tightly 
compressed slit of red. 

But Nathalie, notwithstanding the disdainful glare. 


THE LITTLE OLD LADY 


145 


and the woman’s oppressive silence, pushed her um- 
brella over her head, and, somewhat to her own amuse- 
ment, after a shuffle or two, was soon walking in step 
to the old woman’s hobble. 

“ It has been quite a storm, hasn’t it ? ” ventured the 
girl, although her cheeks were flushed with embarrass- 
ment under the ill-timed silence of the woman, who 
acted not only as if she could dispense with the shelter 
of her umbrella, but with her company as well. 

The only reply to the girl was a sniff, — sounding al- 
most like a sneer, — but, determined not to be daunted 
by the old woman’s surliness, Nathalie kept up her chat- 
ter, telling how charmed they were with the mountains, 
especially with Seven Pillars, with its magnificent view, 
and expressed her regret that they had not been at 
home the afternoon before, explaining that her mother 
had been lying down and did not know of her call. 

Presently, with a sudden movement, the old lady 
came to a halt. Before Nathalie could understand 
what she was stopping for, — her umbrella was held so 
closely over her companion’s head that she didn’t per- 
ceive the splash of red peeping from between the trees, 
— she had turned in at a little gate and the girl sud- 
denly realized that the queer old lady was her neighbor 
of the little red house ! 

For a moment she was speechless; then a smile 
dawned in her eyes, as she suddenly understood why 
her greeting had not been returned when passing by 


146 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


earlier in the afternoon. Quickly recovering her wits, 
however, she stepped forward, and as she held the 
gate open for her new-found neighbor to pass throug'h, 
she cried, “ Oh, I am so glad Iimet you, and know that 
we are near neighbors. Mother will be very pleased to 
meet you, I am sure, and will soon run over to see 
you.” 

But no reply was forthcoming, and Nathalie, her 
patience at a boiling point, hurried on, inwardly vow- 
ing that she was never going to speak to that cantanker- 
ous old woman again, for had she not done her best 
to apologize for an unintentional slight ? As she 
reached the veranda with its magic seven pillars her 
eyes gleamed humorously, as she suddenly realized how 
funny she must have appeared, hobbling along with 
that old woman. What a funny way she had of 
sniffing, and that old black poke-bonnet. Then she 
wondered if the rest of their neighbors were as pe- 
culiar and queer as the old lady in the little red house. 


CHAPTER X 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 

N athalie, with girlish eagerness, hurried into 
the house, and was soon telling her mother 
about her “ adventure day,” as she called it, 
dwelling at length upon her experiences at the Sweet 
'Pea Tea-House, and, with some show of resentment, 
on her encounter with their neighbor in the little red 
house. 

Mrs. Page became intensely interested in the Sweet- 
Pea ladies, as her daughter designated them, but cau- 
tioned her against cherishing any resentment at the 
rudeness of the little old lady in black, as, naturally, 
she was offended that her overtures of friendliness 
had been slighted by the city folks. She and Nathalie 
would go very shortly and call upon her; she did not 
doubt but that her apologies would be accepted, and 
that the unpleasant incident would be forgotten. 

The next morning, while Nathalie was gathering 
some lettuce in the garden near the barn, she met Sam, 
the tow-headed young farm-hand, who looked after 
the place, and who, with his buxom young wife, lived 
in a small white house a short distance down the road. 
147 


148 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


He was a thick-set, sturdy, young fellow, with a broad, 
good-natured face, from which white-lashed, piglike 
blue eyes peered bashfully out above his shiny red 
cheeks. When he met any of the city folks, as he 
called the inhabitants of Seven Pillars, he would grin 
bashfully, and slowly drag off his old straw hat in a 
greeting, growing very red from embarrassed shyness 
if called upon to engage in conversation with any of 
them. 

But Nathalie, who had had to depend upon Sam for 
a certain amount of necessary knowledge in relation 
to the house and garden, had not only grown to depend 
upon him in many ways, but had become quite friendly 
with him. She had learned that he was a level-headed, 
well-meaning young man and that his eyes could 
twinkle responsively, even if he was somewhat slow of 
tongue. 

As he began to show Nathalie how to select the 
heads with the soundest hearts, she told him how she 
had been caught in the thunderstorm the afternoon be- 
fore, and the kindness of the inmates of the Sweet 
Pea Tea-House. 

“ Sure, Miss, they be nice ladies,’’ assented Sam. 
“ I’ve knowed them this long time. They were born 
in that old house, but when the old man Whipple 
growed rich — some relative or t’other left him a pile 
o’ money — they went skylarking down to Boston — 
thought we country folks weren’t smart enough fur 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 


149 


them, I reckon. But when the old man’s luck went 
agin him and he died, them gals come home to roost. 
I feel right sorry for them, for the Lord knows they 
don’t have no stuffin’s to their turkey these days. Too 
bad about the tea-house er goin’ to shucks, for sure 
it use ter bring in er penny er two in the sellin’ o’ them 
posies. 

‘‘ I see ole Jakes, with his old flivver a wheezin’ and 
blowin’ up these ere hills, er takin’ them to the hotels 
er pile er times. By Gosh, that Jakes sure is ole, fer 
he’s been er luggin’ round these parts with one foot 
half-buried fer the last ten years. When he goes off 
the handle what’ll become of the poor ole ladies — the 
folks hereabouts are er guessin’. That deaf-and- 
dumb one — she makes me feel sort er lonesome,’’ 
Sam suddenly confided, with no gift of gab to er, 
and t’other one with the rheumatics, sure they do be 
afflicted.” 

Nathalie also told Sam about meeting* their neighbor 
in the little red house. But when she questioned him 
as to who she was, and if she lived there all alone, his 
face became impassive and he grew evasive in his an- 
swers. Surmising that he might possibly be a relative 
of hers — as she had seen him working about the 
place, she said no more, but hurried into the house, her 
mind intent on the Sweet-Pea ladies and their pathetic 
little story, as told by Sam. 

‘‘ What a misfortune,” she mused, “ to be poor, an 


150 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


invalid, and with only a deaf-and-dumb sister to de- 
pend upon. O dear \ what terrible things people have 
to suffer when they grow old. Well, I shall have to 
go this afternoon and return that umbrella, and — 
yes, I just wish I could do something to help them in 
some way, for Miss Whipple is a dear ! ” 

But, as she hastened to her room to make her cus- 
tomary entry in her diary, the two ladies were forgot- 
ten. This daily duty the girl found quite irksome, 
especially when she had forgotten, and had to make 
her entry at night when she was tired and wanted to 
tumble right into bed; and then, too, she did not see 
how the everyday doings of her life could interest any 
one. And as for searching for the most valuable 
thing in the house, this she had never found time to 
do. Possibly she had not tried very hard to find time, 
as deep within her heart she considered the whole thing 
sheer nonsense. And how was she going to judge the 
value of the things in the house, anyway, she ques- 
tioned rebelliously, for was it not just an old curio 
shop filled with strange, odd junk, that her aunt had 
brought from the other side? 

But when she hinted this to her mother, she had been 
duly rebuked, although Mrs. Page agreed with her 
daughter that it would be a difficult task to determine 
the value of anything she might select. She said, 
however, that she considered that Nathalie, as a cour- 
tesy to her aunt, who was giving them such a delightful 


THE SWEET-PEA LAD 

summer up in those beautiful mountai 
all that she could to comply with her request, even if 
she thought it absurd. 

‘‘ I doubt if the finding of this very mysterious valu- 
able thing would bring either money or property to 
any one,'’ continued the (ady, ‘‘ as I understand that 
Aunt Mary left the bulk of her estate to some 
charitable institution as long as no near relative or 
heir appeared. But she was, as I have told you be- 
fore, very queer in some ways, and probably took this 
method of giving away some of her personal effects. 
It is not at all likely, Nathalie, that you will be the 
lucky finder," — there was a smile in Mrs. Page’s eyes, 
— but still you should make it a point to search for 
it, no matter how you feel.’’ 

“ Oh, I intended to hunt for the old thing, anyway,’’ 
returned Nathalie excusingly, but I have been a little 
slow, perhaps, because Cynthia has been so obsessed 
with the idea, that I hate to be as silly. Jan says she 
spends most of the day hunting in the attic and through 
the house when we are down-stairs. She is wild to 
get into that mystery room, for she thinks it is hidden 
there. 

But you should have seen her last night, mother," 
giggled Nathalie. '' I was coming through the hall 
and suddenly saw a flash of light on the stairs. And 
there was Cynthia, down on her knees, peering under 
the stair-carpet and poking about with her flash-light. 


15 1 

ns, should do 


152 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


She seemed quite annoyed when she saw that she was 
discovered, and, jumping up quickly, scurried down 
the hall. Dear me ! she is the queerest thing. 

“ Well, let her look,” replied Mrs. Page kindly. 

Perhaps her efforts will be rewarded, for, as I un- 
derstand, she is engaged to a Mr. Buddie, and he is 
very poor, Janet says. I presume it would make them 
both very happy if Cynthia came into a little money, 
or found something of value, for perhaps they could 
be married.” 

'' But, mother, Janet hasn’t looked once. She hates 
this mystery prowl, as she calls it, as much as I do,” 
emphasized Nathalie, “ and I have hard work making 
her write in her diary. She is busy writing a speech 
on suffrage, which she expects to deliver this fall. 
Just imagine, mother, Janet making a speech,” and 
Nathalie smiled at the thought. 

Later in the day, dust-begrimed and with her hair 
all of a frowse, Nathalie came trudging wearily up 
the staircase. She had been searching for two hours 
in the library, a great dark room, lined with bookcases, 
and whose wainscoted walls were hung with family 
portraits, — Nathalie called them the Renwicks’ Honor 
Roll, — interspersed with medallions of great authors 
and musicians, and valuable etchings. 

The girl had laughed at Cynthia for prowling about, 
but as she threw herself on her bed, tired and aching 
from stretching her arms and climbing step-ladders. 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 


153 


in order to peer behind the pictures and cornices, she 
felt that she would never laugh at her again. For the 
more ^he had searched, the more her interest had ’in- 
creased, and with it the conclusion that her aunt, for 
contrariness, had really hidden something of great 
value, in order to try the patience of the searchers, in 
some eerie corner or nook. 

But was Mrs. Renwick really dead? This was a 
question that assailed the girl whenever she passed the 
mystery room, whose door loomed big and dark, with 
its heavy crimson curtain, in the long hall. Somehow, 
she had confessed to Janet, whenever she hurried by 
that door she had a strange feeling, a feeling of near- 
ness to some one, — the way one would feel, she imag- 
ined, if they looked up suddenly and found some one 
watching them with a strange, fixed stare. 

Could it be that some one was hidden in that room ? 
But she always dismissed the thought with a half- 
laugh, as being very silly. Nevertheless she always 
raced by that door, especially at night, when the hall 
was wrapped in an uncanny gloominess from the dark 
shadows that came from the big grandfather’s clock, 
the heavy, black-looking wardrobe at one end, and 
other ponderous and carved pieces of mahogany rest- 
ing against the wall. 

The following afternoon Nathalie set forth to return 
the umbrella to its owners, laden with a basket of fruit, 
in appreciation of their kindness to her. As she 


154 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


walked cheerily along, a sudden thought loomed big in 
her mind; she had been thinking how she was going 
to live up to her watchword, Liberty and humanity — 
our best,’’ when it had occurred to her that one way 
would be to offer to read to Miss Whipple every day. 
The girl's eyes glowed, and then she wavered. “ Oh, 
no, I don’t see how I can do that, for I have so much 
to do at home, and I do not want to miss my walks.” 
Her face clouded as she silently struggled with her- 
self, divided with the desire to cheer her new friend, 
and yet not to have to forego her walks. 

She found the invalid lying back in her chair, look- 
ing pale and wan, but when Nathalie inquired if she 
was suffering, she hastily answered, “ Oh, no, I am 
just pure tired, for I have been trying to read my new 
war-book, and it has made me ache all over.” 

Oh, Miss Whipple,” broke from the girl im- 
pulsively, — somehow she could not be selfish, — 
wouldn’t you like to have me come and read to you 
for a little while each day? ” 

Oh, you dear child, that is most kind of you,” the 
lady’s eyes brightened. “ Indeed, I should be de- 
lighted, but it would be selfish to keep you indoors on 
these beautiful mountain days.” A little sigh ended 
the sentence. 

‘‘ But you would not be keeping me in,” insisted her 
companion, for I should just love to read to you, 
and I know I shall find plenty of time to walk some- 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 


155 


where every day.” And then, as an added plea to her 
request, she told of her mornings with Nita Van Vorst, 
and how their taking turns at reading to one another 
had been a source of great instruction to them both. 

In a short time Nathalie was happily reading to her 
friend, who listened with keen enjoyment. After a 
time, fearing the girl would tire, they stopped for a 
little chat, and it was during one of these chats that 
Nathalie told of meeting their queer neighbor who 
lived in the red house, and how rudely she had been 
repulsed by the old lady, when she had tried to atone 
for her reception of the day before. 

A little old woman in a black bonnet, with a bas- 
ket?” repeated Miss Whipple in a puzzled tone. 

Why, that is strange, for I didn’t know that any one 
lived in that little red house. Some years past Mrs, 
Renwick allowed a poor old woman to live there rent 
free, but she died a few years ago. I shall have to ask 
Jakes about it, for he knows every man, woman, or 
child who lives on these mountains.” 

During one of these pauses Mona came in, and her 
sister, noting the wistful look in the patient brown 
eyes, surmised that she, too, would like to enjoy Na- 
thalie’s youth and charm. And so, in a few moments, 
the girl was out in the sweet-pea garden, delighting 
Mona with her enthusiastic interest in the delicately 
tinted flowers that grew in tall, long lines on each 
side of the house. 


156 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Here, too, she met Jakes, an old white-haired man, 
bent almost double with age. He made up for her 
companion’s enforced silence, by showing the many 
different varieties of these exquisite flowers, which, 
on their rough stems, with their tendril-bearing leaves, 
peeped coyly at her, in almost every tint of their vary- 
ing colors. 

But the girl glanced up with quick surprise, when 
she heard the old man, in his quavering, broken voice, 
softly repeat : 

“ Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight ; 

With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, 

And taper fingers catching at all things, 

To bind them all about with tiny rings.” 

As the old man saw Nathalie glance up at him in ill- 
concealed astonishment at his aptness in repeating the 
poetic quotation, he smiled and said, “ Ah, Miss, I 
have planted, transplanted, trained, tended, and 
watched these sweet posies for many a long year as 
carefully as a mother-hen tends her tiny chicks. But 
it was my dear lady, herself, who taught me that 
verse, and sure I have never forgotten it, although I 
do not know the name of the poet-man who wrote it.” 

Nathalie, with her hand in Mona’s, who seemed to 
love to hold it, was now led by her into the little shed, 
where she was soon busily employed in helping her 
tie the sweet peas into bunches, to be delivered the 
next morning to the hotels by Jakes. 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 


157 

From the making of bouquets she wandered into 
the tea-room, where Mona had hurried, on seeing a 
couple of young ladies come in, who wanted to buy 
some post-cards. While they were selecting them 
the deaf-and-dumb woman hastened into the kitchen 
for her tea-tray. Nathalie, meanwhile, waited by the 
little glass case in one corner of the room, carelessly 
studying the mountain-views that lined it, and where 
boxes of maple sugar, pine pillows, and various knick- 
knacks that Miss Whipple said she had made before 
her hands had become so helpless, lay scattered about 
for sale. 

As she turned restlessly away from the case, her 
glance fell on the two girls, who stood examining the 
cards on the wall near, and she half smiled at their 
grotesqueness, as she called their modish style of ap- 
parel. For the girls, fair samples of the average fash- 
ionable summer girls, wore their hair plastered down 
on the sides of their faces in deep scallops, while their 
cheeks were carmine-tinted, and their noses white- 
washed with powder. With their long, thin necks 
rising in kangaroo fashion from their turn-over, low- 
necked collars, and with their short-waisted belts and 
narrow skirts, high above their high-heeled, white 
boots, they reminded Nathalie of some funny French 
dolls that she had seen once in a museum in New York. 

She was wondering why so many girls of the present 
day thought it improved them to make themselves so 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


158 

ungainly and painted-looking, when one of the girls 
suddenly turned her face to her. A sudden exclama- 
tion, and she had stepped towards Nathalie, who 
was now staring at her in puzzled recognition. 

I declare, if it isn’t Nathalie Page. Why, don't 
you remember me? ” she shrilled excitedly. I’m 
Nelda Sackett. You remember we used to be desk- 
mates at Madame Chemidlin’s ? ” 

** Why, Nelda, how do you do? Yes, I remember 
you now,” smiled Nathalie cordially. “ How stupid 
of me not to have recognized you before. But dear 
me, you have changed ! ” And then, fearing that the 
girl might detect her lack of admiration for her modish 
appearance, she hastily added, “ Oh, you have grown 
to be quite a young lady.” 

‘'Young lady! Well, I should say that I was,” 
flashed the girl in a slightly aggrieved tone. “ Why, 
I’m eighteen, and Justine, — you remember Justine 
Guertin, — she is nineteen.” 

By this time Justine had joined' them, and after 
greeting Nathalie with condescending graciousness, the 
three girls w^e sooh chatting about their school-days 
and former friends. The girls were both very curious 
as to their old schoolmate’s life in her new home. Na- 
thalie determined to hold her own and not be cowed 
by their ultra- fashionableness, and, despite the jarring 
realization of the fact that they knew of her changed 
circumstances since her father’s death, bravely told 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 


159 


about her new life in their little home on Main Street, 
in the old-fashioned Long Island town. She not only 
dwelt with persistent minuteness on the many details 
of her more humble life, but told of her connection 
with the Girl Pioneers, the pleasure it had brought her, 
the fineness of its aims and purposes, and the whole- 
someness of a life lived in the open, with its knowledge 
of bird and tree lore, and the many new avenues of 
knowledge it opened to a girl. 

This sort of thing, however, did not seem to appeal 
to these New York girls, and they stared somewhat 
coldly, although a bit curiously, at Nathalie during her 
recital, and then abruptly changed the subject by telling 
of their own gay life in the city. Oh, and what a 
time they were having at the Sunset Hill House, play- 
ing golf and tennis, and dancing in the evening with 
gay college boys and other young men. 

By this time Mona had returned, and, as Nathalie 
saw her trying to wheel a small tea-table into the room 
with both hands full, she hastily flew to her aid. And 
later, when she returned for some needed articles in 
the kitchen, the young girl arranged the teacups and 
saucers on the tray before the girls, as they had asked 
that they might be served with a cup of tea a la Russe. 

The girls continued to chatter in a desultory fashion 
for a while, although Nathalie, whose intuitions were 
keen, sensed that they had grown a little less cordial 
in their manner towards her. Presently, finishing 


i6o THE LIBERTY GIRL 

their tea and paying for it, they nodded Nathalie a 
careless good-by and hurried out, somewhat to the 
girl’s surprise, who had naturally supposed that they 
would invite her to come and see them at the hotel, or 
express a desire to visit her at her home. 

With reddened cheeks and a disappointed expression 
in her eyes Nathalie watched them as they crossed the 
road to the flagged walk opposite. It was true, she was 
lonely up there in her new surroundings, with no spe- 
cial friend to run in and chat with, as she had been 
accustomed to do with her friend Helen. She wanted 
young company, and the meeting with her former 
schoolmates had revived old memories and worn-out 
longings. 

Although she did not approve of their style of dress, 
or their airy manners, still they were something that 
belonged to her former life in New York, and she 
would have enjoyed having a chat with them once in 
a while for the sake of “ Auld Lang Syne.” 

With the quick thought that they were not worth a 
pang of regret, for they had shown that they had be- 
come very snobbish, she turned away, and aimlessly 
wandered over to an old piano that stood on one side 
of the room. As if to ease the hurt feeling that still 
jarred her sensitiveness, she sat down and carelessly 
ran her fingers over the old yellow keys. A sudden 
call from the invalid in the adjoining room, — the door 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES i6i 

stood open, — for Nathalie to play something, brought 
the girl to herself with a sudden start. 

Oh, I do not know anything to play,” she weakly 
pleaded, “ for I am no musician.” Nathalie spoke the 
truth, for she not only had no special talent for music, 
but the little accomplishment that she had acquired in 
that line had been sadly neglected since she had taken 
up housework. 

But as the invalid’s plea was insistent, and the girl 
did not want to be disagreeable, she again swept her 
hands over the keyboard, this time unconsciously fall- 
ing into one of Chopin’s waltzes, something that she 
supposed she had forgotten. From this she wandered 
into a few rag-time airs, and then came snatches of 
old-time melodies, until finally she was playing a well- 
known reverie by a noted composer. 

But suddenly realizing that she had heard nothing 
from the next room, and fearing that she had wearied 
Miss Whipple, she hastily arose and hurried to her 
side, to find her lying back in her chair with a strange 
restful expression on her face, but with closed eye lids, 
through which tears were slowly trickling. 

Oh, Miss Whipple, I should not have played so 
long,” exclaimed the girl remorsefully. ‘‘ Perhaps I 
have made you feel sad.” 

No, no, my child! Your playing has brightened 
me up.” The invalid sat up quickly, as she shame- 


i 62 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


facedly wiped away the stray tears. Indeed, my 
dear, I pay you a compliment when I cry, for if the 
music did not go right to my heart the tears would not 
have come. No, I would never regret being an old 
shut-in if I could hear music once in a while. But 
that was a lovely little thing you played last ; it is one 
of my favorites.” 

‘‘ Oh, I must try to get Janet to come down and 
play for you,” cried Nathalie with a relieved sigh, 
“ for she is a real musician, and plays for us every 
evening as we sit on the veranda in the moonlight. 
But it is getting late and I must go, for I have supper 
to get. When my boys come, perhaps I shall have 
more time, for, you know, I am going to put them 
through their paces and teach them to be helpful.” 

After a hasty good-by, Nathalie was hurrying across 
the road, while waving her hand to the sweet, patient 
face smiling at her from the window. Some twenty 
minutes later she arrived at Seven Pillars, her eyes 
happily aglow, as she told her mother of the readings 
to be, to help lighten the burdens of her new friend, 
the shut-in. 

Several days later Nathalie, with her mother, walked 
slowly down the garden-path, with its border of old- 
time hollyhocks and peonies and white stones, to the 
gate-posts. A step or two, and they stood before the 
door of the little red house, as the girl, with pleased 
eyes, cried, “ Well, mother, she’s in, for I saw her 


THE SWEET-PEA LADIES 163 

sitting at the window as we came up the path, so we 
can get this ordeal over.” 

But unfortunately she reckoned without her host, 
for although they knocked and knocked, Nathalie even 
pounding on the door with her parasol-handle, for she 
had planned to take a walk after the call, no one came 
to the door. After a time she peered at the window, 
but some one had drawn the shades down so that noth- 
ing was to be seen. 

Mother, she is so angry she just won’t let us in,” 
cried the young caller with flushed cheeks. “ Oh, I 
think she must be a very disagreeable old lady, and I 
do not think there is any use in trying to be nice to 
her.” 

Mrs. Page had evidently come to the same conclu- 
sion, so they slowly turned and retraced their steps 
back to the house, and in a short space she was seated 
on the veranda with her darning, as Nathalie started 
for a walk. As she passed the red house, and caught 
sight of the silver-haired old lady knitting at the win- 
dow she quickly turned her head away, determined to 
ignore her in the future. “ And so this is the end of 
our acquaintance with our next-door neighbor,” she 
mused ruefully, as she passed on down the road. Well, 
it certainly did not prove very progressive. Of course 
I don’t really care, — she’s just an old lady, — but still 
I do wish Cynthia Loretto had stayed up in her old stu- 
dio, and not made trouble for us by her unkind ways.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 

N otwithstanding that the inmates of 

Seven Pillars were neighbored by a disagree- 
able old lady, as Nathalie had mentally dubbed 
the occupant of the red house, the time passed pleas- 
antly to the girl, although she had days when she 
longed to see Helen, to open her heart to her in confi- 
dential mood. But the lonesomeness gradually less- 
ened, occupied as she was with her manifold house- 
hold cares, her exploring trips, her visits to the Sweet- 
Pea ladies, and the sometime prowl for the mysterious 
It. To her satisfaction she soon found that by hurry- 
ing a little over her morning tasks, she not only had 
time to read to her friend, and to help Mona at her 
work, but that she did not have to miss her walks. 

She finally succeeded in getting Janet to go with 
her to the tea-house, and that volatile young woman 
was so won by the charming personality of the invalid, 
and the sweet patience of Mona, that she not only 
played during her call, but made arrangements to 
come down twice a week and give them a musical after- 
noon, to the great joy of the invalid. 

164 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 165 


On one of these days a party of ladies from the 
Hotel Look-off, out for an afternoon constitutional, 
dropped in for a rest and a cup of tea. They were so 
pleased that they told others about these musical after- 
noons, so it soon became quite the fashionable thing to 
drop in at the Sweet Pea Tea-House, especially on 
Wednesdays and Saturdays. On these days a score of 
ladies, old and young, could frequently be seen having 
a social chat over the teacups, while listening to some 
popular ragtime air, or a classic from one of the old 
composers, while knitting for the soldiers. 

There had been one unpleasant occurrence that had 
jarred Nathalie extremely, and that was that Cynthia 
Loretto, when she learned of the Sweet-Pea ladies and 
the musical afternoons, was quite insistent that Blue 
Robin take some of her paintings and etchings down, 
and hang them up so that they could be seen, in the 
hope of making a sale. 

Nathalie, at first, had refused to accede to this re- 
quest, and then she began to argue with her conscience, 
giving for her refusal many reasons that only existed 
in her imagination. Finally, Mrs. Page, with her 
motherly intuition, perceiving that her daughter was at 
war with her better self, one day led the conversation 
to the subject, by saying that she thought it was al- 
most pathetic the way Cynthia yearned to make money 
so she could marry Mr. Buddie. 

You must remember, daughter,’' she persuaded. 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


1 66 

after listening to the girl’s objections in regard to the 
paintings, “ that even if you are not attracted to Cyn- 
thia, she has feelings, hopes, and disappointments as 
well as you. Some day, perhaps, you may be old and 
alone in the world with your living to earn, and will 
be almost willing to make a bore of yourself if you 
can only earn a little money so as to give yourself 
some pleasure.” Nathalie made no reply, but some- 
how she began to question if she were really trying 
to live up to her motto to be helpful and kind, or was 
it just a make-believe thing with her, as she called it. 
The next day she reluctantly broached the subject to 
Miss Whipple, and, to her surprise, found that she 
would be very pleased to have the paintings and etch- 
ings on the wall. The room really needs papering,” 
the lady explained, ‘‘ and they will help to hide such 
disfigurements as stains and tack-holes on the faded 
paper.” This conclusion settled the matter very satis- 
factorily to Cynthia, and made Nathalie rejoice that 
she had, after all, come out conqueror in her fight with 
self. 

The girl had begun to wonder why she did not hear 
from Mrs. Van Vorst as to when her boys were com- 
ing, when a letter arrived. To her great joy it an- 
nounced that they would be due at the Sugar Hill sta- 
tion the following Saturday, as they would leave New 
York in the White Mountain express, probably reach- 
ing their destination about seven in the evening. 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 167 

Nathalie was somewhat disappointed that the boys 
were not to go on to the Littleton station, where Mr. 
Banker had planned to meet them. But alas, she 
could not ask him to come all the way over to the 
Sugar Hill station, and then, too, she knew that he 
and his wife generally took little outings through the 
mountains every week-end. 

Deeply perplexed, she pondered over the matter with 
no little anxiety, and then suddenly it came to her 
that she would see if Miss Whipple would not let her 
hire her machine, and then go for the boys herself. 
She had learned to know the mountain roads in riding 
with Jakes when he went to the different hotels to 
deliver the sweet peas. He had often let her drive, 
as she had previously learned to handle a car from her 
many rides with Grace, and had even secured a license 
through the insistence of her friend. 

Hurrying through her work, she hastened down to 
the tea-house, where she found the two ladies in a 
state of unusual excitement, for Jakes, Miss Whipple 
explained, was quite ill, and they were at a loss as to 
how they were to get their flowers to the various hotels 
the following day. And the Profile House had sent 
in a special order, for there was to be some kind of a 
festivity there that evening, and they wanted the 
bunches of sweet peas for prizes. 

Oh, don’t worry over that,” cried the girl quickly, 
as she perceived their distress, for I can deliver the 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


1 68 

flowers for you. I can drive and I know the roads, 
for I have been about so much with Jakes and Mr. 
Banker.” 

After some little hesitation the two ladies consented 
that Nathalie should deliver the flowers, insisting, how- 
ever, in return for her kindness to them, that she 
should have the car for her own use in the afternoon, 
to drive to the station for the boys. 

To Nathalie it was quite a new experience, to get 
up in the cool gray of early dawn, dress hurriedly, 
swallow a hasty breakfast, — her mother was to act 
as housekeeper for the day, — and then hurry down to 
the tea-house. It did not take her long to load the car 
with its flowery burden, and then she was speeding 
through Sugar Hill village, and on to the Long Green 
Path, as she called the road through the woods that 
led to Seven Pillars and Franconia. The air was so 
cool from the moisture of the night dew that still lay 
in glistening gems and silvery cobwebs on the hilly 
greens, the leaves, ferns, and wild flowers, and bracing 
from the ozone of the mountain breezes that heralded 
the new-born day, that the girl’s pulses throbbed with 
buoyant exhilaration. 

There was a moment’s stop at Seven Pillars for 
Janet, who had consented to accompany her, and then 
they were off, Nathalie happily waving her hand to 
Sam as he came through the pasture with the cows. 
A few moments later they were whirling past Roslin- 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 169 

wood Farm, with its big white barn, and then past a 
long, low, white-gabled, red-chimneyed building, with 
the old-time hostelry sign, PecketCs on Sugar Hill,” 
swinging from its porte-cochere, with its flower-gar- 
den, riotous with many-colored blooms, across the 
road, almost under the shadow of Garnet’s sloping 
meadow. 

Now they were flying down the long sloping hill, 
around the tiny white schoolhouse at the cross-roads, 
and then they were passing Garnet’s grassy hillside, 
as it nodded a greeting to its taller fellows, the Fran- 
conia Range, that towered on the girls’ right. Its 
verdant meadows were squared with cobble-stone 
ledges, and awave with the glossy plumage of stately 
trees, as it rose upward from the road, until its slope 
was lost in a tangle of feathery treetops which crowned 
its summit like a cap of green. 

“ The Echoes,” a homey little hotel nestling at the 
base of the green hill, with its square white tower, 
peeped picturesquely from the protecting sweep of 
graceful willows and silvery poplars. Here they had 
a magnificent view of the mountains as they rose from 
their mists of gray, their rugged crests, spires, and 
domes sharply outlined against a glorious riot of sun- 
rise color. 

Lafayette, the king of the range, towered his grizzly 
head in blue-hazed grandeur far upward, standing like 
some giant up from the mists that covered the 


170 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


valleys below like a silver lake, while Lincoln’s rounded 
summit, with its twin slides, was almost hidden by 
trailing wreaths of pearly gray. The gaps between 
the Sleeping Infant, sharp-peaked Garfield, the North 
and South Twins, and the Sleeping Giant, were so 
thickly silvered with mist that the peaks of these moun- 
tains looked like islets of green on a shimmering gray 
sea, with their tops scarfed with pink and violet 
streaks, that floated mistily against the golden splendor, 
reflected from the crimson-hued ball in the east. 

Directly before them rose the undulating slope of 
Breakneck Hill, bowing in gentle humility to the more 
rugged beauty of the lofty range opposite, while be- 
tween the widening gap, far in the distance, loomed the 
Presidential Range, their tops white-wreathed with 
cloud. Mount Washington, with majestic stateliness, 
soared far above his comrades, while the smaller 
mountains below and on the left, scattered here and 
there through the cleft between the two ranges, 
gleamed gray, purple, and pink, as they peered at them 
from their hoods of gray. 

It was a swift whirl down the half-mile hill, and 
then they were passing through the little mountain vil- 
lage of Franconia, with its white cottages, its stone 
sidewalks, its beautiful Gale River, with its bush- 
fringed banks and little stone tower, surrounded by 
level stretches of green pasture-land, merging into the 
low foothills that skirted the higher range. It was a 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 17 1 

wonderful ride through that five-mile Notch, in the 
glint of the rose-tipped sunlight, with the ever-changing 
flash from one mountain-picture to another, each one 
gripping you with the witchery of the illusive charm of 
Nature in her varying moods, now frolicsome, gay, 
or blithe, or strangely stilled in the grandeur of a sun- 
rise calm. 

As the girl came down the steps of the Profile House, 
her first stopping-place, she paused a moment and 
peered up at Eagle Cliff, a precipitous wall of rock 
opposite, rising to the height of fifteen hundred feet 
above the road. It was thickly set with evergreens, 
climbing birches, maples, and spruces, and intermingled 
with patches of a softer green, from where purple- 
tinted bits of rock, like giant’s eyes, looked down upon 
the wayfarers that traversed the road beneath. 

Nathalie had heard that the cliff had received its 
name from the “ Arabs of the air,” which at one time 
had lodged in its airy heights. But evidently they 
had long since departed, and after a disappointed 
glance, as her eyes swept the tall steeps, she rejoined 
Janet in the car, and was soon guiding it through the 
green-wooded road to her next halting-place, some few 
miles beyond. 

This was the Flume House, a long, low, yellow 
building, grouped about with mountain crags, — the 
gateway to the Flume, a remarkable fissure in Liberty 
Mountain, over fifty feet deep, and several hundred 


172 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


long, where an ice-cold cascade dashed with snowy 
spray, to flow in more quiet mood over ledges of gran- 
ite rocks between perpendicular walls. 

After leaving their flowers at the office the girls 
started on their homeward way. The distance was 
soon traversed as they chattered of the scene before 
them, sometimes hushed into stillness by the sudden 
surprise of some wonderful trick of Nature as they 
flew swiftly past. 

As they reached the little schoolhouse at the cross- 
roads Janet descended from the car to w^alk up the hill 
to the house, while Nathalie continued on her way. 
She had soon passed the artist’s bungalow, with its 
studio, on her left, and Hildreth’s maple-sugar farm, 
with its big barn, coming out shortly at the little red 
Episcopal church, with the deserted, falling-to-pieces 
hotel, the Marimonte, just beyond on a knoll. 

It did not take her long to ascend the long hilly slope 
to the Hotel Look-off, where a basket of sweet peas 
were left, and then she had swung her car around and 
was speeding down the declivity to the Sunset Hill 
House, where she again brought her car to a halt. 

As she neared the big entrance-door, heavily bur- 
dened with her flowers, she came face to face with her 
two New York friends, who were sauntering care- 
lessly from the office, evidently having lingered over a 
late breakfast. As the girl sighted the familiar faces 
she forgot their apparent slight of a few days before, 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 173 


and nodded pleasantly, her cheeks dimpling with pleas- 
ure. But, to her surprise, a rigid stare was their only 
response to her greeting, and, with a sudden start of 
shocked dismay, the girl hastened past them into the 
office, where she was relieved of her flowers by one of 
the bell-boys. 

Smarting from the rankle of the insult, but still 
dazed at the suddenness of it, she walked slowly down 
to the car and mechanically stepped into it. As she 
glided down the road she sat stiff and erect, her mind 
apparently on the steering-wheel, although in reality 
her senses were in a maze of dumb bewilderment. 

A half-hour later, after running the car into the 
stable, for she was to use it again later, she made her 
way into the house, up to her room, and to her closet. 
Here, with her face buried in the blackness of hanging 
skirts and coats, she stood silently for a few moments, 
trying to argue herself out of the hurt feeling that 
would not be downed. 

Oh, what a little ninny I am,’’ she exclaimed at 
last. What do I care if they did give me the ' go 
by,’ as Dick says.” She gave a half laugh, that quickly 
merged into a long sigh as the thought came, that, 
after all, the girls had not really hurt her as much as 
they had hurt themselves. ‘‘No, I will not allow my- 
self,” she closed her mouth determinedly, “ to be so 
small as to let it hurt me any more.” 

She had a very restful afternoon, with a good long 


174 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


nap, and a nice time reading out in the hammock, and 
then, a little before six, she set out on her ride to the 
station in a tense state of expectancy, for she was 
anxious to see her Liberty boys, as she had elected to 
call them. 

The drive was a delightful one after the burden 
and heat of the day, and she bowled swiftly along, 
slackening her speed every now and then to admire 
an unusually fine landscape view, or the golden, violet- 
tinted clouds that drifted up from the west. She had 
just turned into her last lap, as she called it, for she 
knew that she must be very near the station, when, with 
a sudden skidding motion, her car came to a standstill. 
She got out and cranked it, but although there was 
plenty of gasoline still on hand, it refused to go. She 
poked about, here and there, to see what had caused 
the stoppage, but although she cleaned out her car- 
buretor and saw that her spark-plugs were all right, 
she failed to discover what was wrong. Her heart 
began to beat feverishly, for she was well aware that, 
although she could drive a car, in reality she knew 
little about its mechanism, and therefore could not rem- 
edy any very serious trouble. She got down and 
crawled under the car, to examine first one part and 
then another, but alas! it was exasperatingly useless, 
for she could see nothing wrong, and she finally 
crawled out again, covered with dust and grime. At 
this moment she heard the far-distant whistle of an 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 175 


oncoming locomotive, realizing with a pang of despair, 
that it was the White Mountain express, and that she 
would not be at the station to meet the boys. 

Suddenly her face gleamed hopefully, for at that 
moment she heard the near hum of an automobile, 
and the next second saw it whirl around the curve in 
the road. Oh, perhaps it will be a man who can 
help me,” quickly flashed through her mind, as she 
peered intently at the nearing car. And then she al- 
most laughed aloud from sheer joy, for, yes, the car 
was driven by a man, who, with one quick glance at 
the girl’s flushed face, and the stranded vehicle, brought 
his car to a standstill and jumped quickly out. 

As the man came towards the girl, who had begun 
to pleadingly explain her mishap, and the hurry she 
was in, Nathalie caught her breath with a startled 
gasp, as she suddenly was made aware that he was 
the bold-eyed man who had accosted her in the post- 
office a week or so before, and who had spoken to her 
near the cemetery. But she was so distressed and 
fearful that she would miss the boys — poor little 
things, what would they do if there was no one there 
to" meet them ! — that this fact was submerged in the 
greatness of her need. 

In a moment or so she had regained her customary 
poise, as the young man, after a cursory glance over 
the machine, discovered what was wrong. Ah, it was 
a short-circuit. With a wrench he took from his 


176 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


pocket, he soon adjusted the difficulty, and then turned 
smilingly towards the girl, and with another of his 
bold stares assured her that her car was all right. 

Nathalie involuntarily stepped back, and then, half 
ashamed of her timidity when the man had been so 
kind, cried hastily : “ Oh, I am so much obliged to 

you! I do not know what I should have done, if you 
had not come along. Thank you, very much,” she 
ended abruptly, then, pleading that she must hurry, 
she cranked her car, and, with a little stiff bow, stepped 
into it, and a moment later was whirling down the 
road. 

But she had not gotten rid of her helper as quickly as 
she thought, for it was only a second, as it seemed to 
her, when, on turning her head as she heard the throb 
of a machine in her rear, she saw, with a sudden qualm 
of fear, that the man was following her. “ Oh, why 
does he do that ? ” she thought in nervous apprehension. 

Yes, he must be following me,” she mentally decided, 

for he was going in the opposite direction when I 
hailed him.” 

But sensibly determining to pay no attention to him, 
she kept on her way, although an aggravating dread 
assailed her that she could not account for, that the 
man might waylay, and try to rob her, the bold 
glance of his eyes having filled her with a feeling of 
distrust. 

Ah, she was at the station. As she glided up to the 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE NOTCH 177 


little wooden platform she peered anxiously around, 
but no one was in sight. Bringing her car to a halt, 
she jumped hastily out and scurried around to the 
other side of the platform, only to see the ticket-agent 
locking up the waiting-room, as he prepared to depart 
on his nightly journey home, as the station was only 
open for certain trains. 

“ Did you see any little boys get off the White 
Mountain express ? ” inquired the girl breathlessly. 

“ Why, yes,” replied the man, as he slipped the 
door-key into his pocket, ‘‘ I saw three, — no, four 
boys. They waited around here for some time, and 
then they went away. They looked like foreigners; 
one little chap must have been an Italian, for he car- 
ried a violin under his arm, and wore a queer em- 
broidered vest.” 

‘‘ Did you notice in what direction they went? ” cried 
the girl, while a chilled feeling swept over her as to 
the fate of the boys. Oh, suppose they should get 
lost in those mountain woods ! 

No, the man had not noticed, and Nathalie with a 
dejected attitude, turned away, nervously wondering 
what to do, and where to look. Well, she must do 
something, for those boys must have been the ones 
Mrs. Van Vorst had sent to her. Once more she was 
in her car, and then, in sudden desperation, she deter- 
mined to try every road in succession, — for there were 
several leading from the station, — until she found 


178 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


them, for surely they could not have gone very far, as 
they were walking. Buoyed with this thought, she 
plunged into the graying shadows of the road nearest 
to her, dimly conscious that the bold-eyed man in the 
automobile, who had been circling around the little 
square of green in front of the station, was close be- 
hind her. 


CHAPTER XII 


Nathalie’s liberty boys 

O N and on she rode, peering through the gloam- 
ing until her eyes ached, ever conscious of the 
throb, throb,” of the car directly behind her. 
What a mistake, she thought dismally, to have ven- 
tured on these lonely roads alone. And, O dear ! how 
her mother would worry when she failed to arrive 
home on time. 

Suddenly she stopped and stared fixedly through the 
gray light, and then her heart leaped, for down the road 
a little distance, trudging slowly and uncertainly beside 
the mountain-ditch, were four little figures. Oh, they 
must be those boys, but she had sent for only three. 

With a glad thrill of hope urging her forward, the 
machine responded to her touch, and in a moment she 
had reached the boys, one of whom, at the sound of 
the oncoming car, had swung around, and was staring 
at her with large, liquid brown eyes. The girl sud- 
denly decided that he must be the Italian lad, who 
the ticket-agent had said wore an embroidered vest, 
and carried a violin under his arm. Yes, there was the 
violin ! 


179 


i8o 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Nathalie brought her car to a sudden stop, and called 
out, Hello there, boys; hello! ” 

At the sound of the girl’s call all four swung about 
and faced her, while a boyish, gruff voice answered: 
“ Hello yourself. What do you want? ” 

Nathalie laughed happily, for a sudden intuition told 
her that her search was over. And then she said: 
“ Why, I am looking for some little boys, who were 
to have come from New York on the White Mountain 
express. Are you the ones? ” 

A chorus of trebles piped excitedly, “ Yes, mum; we 
corned off the train,” while the tallest lad, to whom a 
smaller child of six or seven was nervously clinging, 
stepped forward. As he lifted his ragged cap he cried 
politely, “Be you Miss Nathalie Page?” The girl, 
as she stared down at the questioner, saw a close- 
cropped head of reddish hair, and a freckled face of 
an unhealthy pallor, from which two sharp blue eyes 
were anxiously peering. 

“ Yes, I’m Miss Nathalie Page,” responded the girl, 
with a note of relief in her voice, not only glad that 
she had found the boys, but at the sudden thought that 
her tormentor would now let her alone, for, with four 
boys to keep her company, he would not dare to molest 
her. 

“ Pm awfully sorry not to have met you at the 
station,” she went on regretfully, “ but something 
happened to my machine and I was detained on the 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS i8i 


road. But I did not know that there would be four 
of you,” she added a little doubtfully. But before she 
could finish her sentence, the lad who had constituted 
himself the spokesman for the group, silently handed 
her a letter. 

Nathalie tore it open, and then hastily read it. She 
was so excited, however, by the many events that had 
crowded one upon the other that she did not sense its 
full meaning. Recognizing the signature, “ Elizabeth 
Van Vorst,” she cried hastily, Well, it’s all right, 
boys ; jump into the car,” as she stufifed the letter into 
the pocket of her coat. Nathalie immediately saw that 
a second invitation would not be needed, as the boys 
made a wild lunge forward, scrambling and pushing 
each other, as if to see which one would get there first, 
all but the little chap, who stood whimpering by the 
side of the car. 

“ Now, boys, no pushing or pulling,” cried Nathalie 
with a laugh in her voice, for there’s plenty of room, 
and you’re all going home with me. But here, you big 
one, get out and put that little kid up by me, for the 
poor tot must be hungry and tired.” 

‘‘ Sure, he is. Miss,” replied the older lad, who evi- 
dently was his brother, jumping down and lifting him 
up into the seat by Nathalie, despite his kicks and 
protests that he wanted to sit with Danny. 

“ Ah, there, kid,” coaxed the bigger boy softly, 
“ don’t be a girl. Show you’re a boy. Sit up there 


i 82 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


nice-like. Sure the ledcly won’t eat yen’" This sug- 
gestion of being a girl had a magical effect upon the 
child, for he immediately ceased to whimper, and set- 
tled back in the seat with a repressed sniffle. 

Nathalie turned the car around, — the man who had 
been following her had long since disappeared in the 
darkness, — and was soon speeding towards home. 
She glanced every now and then at the three figures 
on the back seat, who sat as still as three blind mice, 
snuggling up to each other for warmth, while the little 
chap at her side clutched her frantically as he lurched 
forward every time the car swung around a corner, 
or bumped over a “ thank-you-ma'am.^’ 

“ Here, kiddie,” cried the girl presently, suddenly 
looking down at the child, whose big, reddish-brown 
eyes were staring up at her half fearfully from out 
of a wan, white face. “ Put your head on my lap! 
There, that’s it,” as the child, to her surprise snuggled 
up to her, and then silently obeyed. ** Now look up,” 
she added laughingly, “ and count the stars.” 

Although this injunction brought forth a chuckle 
from the back seat, it sufficed to keep the little one 
quiet, and the girl, as she drove rapidly on, could hear 
him droning, One, two, three, — ” until, with a 
drowsy little sigh, the counting ceased, and the girl 
saw that he was asleep. 

It was almost nine o’clock when Nathalie whirled 
under the dimly burning lantern of the porte-cochere at 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 183 

Seven Pillars, where, on the veranda, Janet and her 
mother were anxiously watching for her. 

'' Oh, Nathalie, I have been so worried about you,” 
began her mother plaintively. ‘‘ I will never let you 
go off this way again.” But her lamentations were cut 
short as her daughter cried, ‘‘ Oh, it’s all right, mumsie ; 
something happened to the car and detained me. But 
do help me get these hungry boys into the house, for 
the poor things are just dead with the long ride and 
for something to eat.” 

Several minutes later, as the girl came hurrying 
from the kitchen, where she had been to see if the 
boys’ supper was ready, she found them lined up in the 
hall, four pathetically weary little figures. Their pale 
faces were smeared with railroad dust, and their fore- 
heads oozed perspiration, but their eyes were bright 
and expectantly keen, on the alert for the something 
good that they knew was coming. 

As her eyes swept smilingly down the line, the smile 
suddenly wavered, as her glance was arrested by the 
thin, emaciated face of a strange grayish whiteness, — 
of a peasant lad, who, bewildered with dumb amaze- 
ment, was staring at her with a dogged look, his dark 
eyes haunted, as it were, by an expression of fear. 

He was huddling something in his right arm, a yel- 
lowish-brown thing that squirmed and twisted un- 
easily, while the left sleeve of his soiled shirt-waist, 
strapped with one suspender, was pinned to his shoul- 


i84 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


der in an empty, flat way that was infinitely pathetic, 
for the little lad had only one arm ! 

The girl stared back at the boy with a suppressed 
cry, as into memory flashed the many stories she had 
heard of the Belgian ancj French children who had 
been so mercilessly ill-treated and maimed by the Ger- 
man soldiers. Oh, this must be one of those refugees. 
Yes, she dimly remembered now, seeing the word 
“ Belgian ” in Mrs. Van Vorst’s letter, which she had 
read so quickly. With sudden effort, her natural kind- 
liness coming to her aid, she smiled into the fear- 
haunted eyes, crying gently, as she softly touched him 
on the one arm, “ Is that your dog? Oh, I love dogs. 
What is his name? ” 

A sudden flash of joyful relief radiated from the 
boy’s face, momentarily driving away that dulled, cow- 
like bewilderment from his eyes. It was a look that 
caused Nathalie’s heart to quiver with pain, for it was 
the look of some dumb animal that had been wantonly 
punished or brutally hurt by the hand it loved ; a look 
that haunted her for many days, constantly urging her 
to try and say something, or do something, so as to 
drive it away. 

The next moment a little yellow-brown terrier was 
crouching on the floor at his master’s feet, while thump- 
ing the floor with his tail, and licking his hand, then 
trying to crawl up his trousers’ leg, as if to get back to 
the shelter of that one lonely arm. 




NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 185 


“ Oh, the poor animal must be hungry,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Page, just as the boy had given his name as Tige. 
“ But come, children,” she added, and get your sup- 
pers ; and the dog, too,” patting the brown head of the 
refugee, while a look of infinite pity shone from her 
kindly eyes. 

The boys needed no further urging, as Danny, with 
a wild hoot of delight, yelled, ‘‘ Come on, fellers; it’s 
eats.” And then, notwithstanding Nathalie’s well-laid 
plans that each one should have a good wash-up before 
eating, they made a straight run for the kitchen. 

Here they were soon putting down everything in 
sight in a way that almost frightened the girl, as she 
suddenly realized the care and responsibility she had 
taken upon herself. And that one-armed hoy! O 
dear ! she had never thought of such a thing as that. 

But if they didn’t have their wash before supper, 
they had it very soon after, as the girl marched each 
one separately to the washbowl in the bathroom, and, 
after making him duck his head in the water, proceeded 
to give it a vigorous shampoo, notwithstanding sundry 
squirms and twists, for Nathalie believed in taking 
things by the forelock, and they just must be clean. 

Then the scrubbed one, after being supplied with 
towels and soap, was informed that he must give him- 
self a good scrubbing in the tub, and if he failed to do 
it properly, he would have to do it all over again. 
Nathalie’s somewhat severe admonition was met with 


i86 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


stony silence on the part of her victims, unless it was a 
rather loud, ‘‘ Gee whiz, fellers ; here’s me for a 
swim ! ” that involuntarily escaped Danny, the older 
boy, when he found himself before the well-filled bath- 
tub. 

When it came to the little chap’s turn, Nathalie’s 
young heart revolted at letting him go through the 
washing process all by himself, as he was so little, tired, 
and sleepy, so she said that she would give him his bath. 
To her surprise he began to whimper, while his older 
brother protested most vehemently that he could bathe 
him. 

“Oh, no,” returned the young lady decidedly; and 
a few moments later her charge was standing in the 
bath-tub, ready for his scrubbing, Nathalie meanwhile 
talking to him gently, as if to quiet his fears. 

Some time later, with a red, heated face, the young 
girl emerged from the room, dragging a little white- 
robed figure by the hand, whose face was, strange to 
say, wreathed in dimples. “ Here, dear, you get into 
Miss Natty’s bed,” said the girl, leading the child into 
her room, “ and brother will stay with you until I re- 
turn,” motioning to Danny, who had been waiting out- 
side the bathroom, with a strange, worried look on his 
face. 

“ Oh, mother,” exclaimed Nathalie a moment later, 
as she came rushing out to the porch. “ W'hat do you 
think? Oh, I never was so surprised in my life! ” 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 187 

‘‘Why, Nathalie, what is the matter with you?” 
ejaculated Janet, as she placed her arm caressingly 
around the girl. “You are as white as a ghost, and 
you’re all of a tremble.” 

“ Oh, I’ve had such a scare, — such a terrible sur- 
prise,” stammered the girl. And then she broke into 
a little laugh as she cried : “ Oh, mother, you know 

the littlest chap? Well, he isn’t a boy at all; he’s a 
girl ! ” 

“ A girl ! ” echoed three voices simultaneously, and 
then Mrs. Page gave a laugh, a laugh in which every 
one joined. 

It did not take Nathalie long to relate her experi- 
ences in the bathroom, and then she remarked : “ I 

wonder if Mrs. Van Vorst knew he was a girl. It’s 
awfully funny. Oh, I’ll read her letter again.” 

The next moment, with the letter opened before her, 
she was slowly reading aloud : 

“ Dear Nathalie : 

“ I am sending you four boys instead of three. The 
fourth lad is a one-armed Belgian refugee, and his story 
is so pitiful I am sure, when you come to learn it, you 
will be glad I sent him to you. A Buffalo lady sent 
word to the Belgian Relief Committee that she would 
take one of a number of refugees recently arrived from 
France. But when she found that the poor lad had 
been mutilated by the Germans, her heart weakened. 
She claimed that she could not stand unpleasant things 
— what about the sufferings of the boy? — and re- 
turned him to the committee. 


i88 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ A member of the committee, hearing that I was 
looking for some boys, and being greatly distressed 
over the cruelty of the case, begged me to send him 
to you, if only for a little while, so as to give them a 
chance to place him later. I, of course, will be respon- 
sible for any expense he will be to you. I am sorry, 
but I had no opportunity to clothe him. He seems a 
strange, docile child. I think he is still living in the 
horrors of hell, from those terrible eyes of his. Oh, 
it is heart-breaking, but I know that you love chil- 
dren, dear, and I am sure that you are just the one 
to bring something of the child in him back to his face 
again. 

“ His story is only one of many. His village was 
overrun by the German soldiery, and the brave little 
lad, while trying to defend his mother from the atroc- 
ity of a German officer, was bayoneted, and finally lost 
his arm. His mother was carried away into Germany, 
but the boy believes her dead. I will not tell you the 
rest of his story, for some day he may want to unbur- 
den his child mind and tell you his pitiful tale himself. 
His little yellow dog has been his comrade through all 
of his weary wanderings, the only thing that remains to 
him of his once happy home, and no one had the heart 
to take it from him. 

“ The Italian lad was found wandering in the streets 
on the East Side, making an effort to support himself 
by playing on his violin, as his aged grandfather, — 
he seems to have been an orphan, — who was a hurdy- 
gurdy man, had just died. The two brothers were 
found living in a cellar, where Danny, the older one, 
had been trying to support his brother, after the death 
of the aged woman who had had charge of them. He 
sold papers, but. when sick and unable to do so, was 
found half-starved in the cellar. It is hoped that the 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 189 

bracing breezes of the mountain air, with good healthy 
food, will make new children of these boys. 

“ Dear Nathalie, if you could only realize the bigness 
of the work you have undertaken in taking these slum 
children into a wonder-land of healthy living, the beau- 
ties and wonders of which will mean to them a new and 
glorified world. God bless you, dear, is all I can say 
and pray. 

“ Your friend, 

‘‘ Elizabeth Van Vorst.” 

No, this letter proves that Mrs. Van Vorst did not 
know that the child was a girl,” said Nathalie, as she 
tucked the letter in her shirt-waist. But, mother, 
what shall I do about it ? ” she continued, in such a de- 
jected voice that her mother burst out laughing. 

“ Don’t do anything about it, daughter,” Mrs. Page 
replied, still laughing. “ A girl is as good as a boy any 
day, and we will just set to work, this very minute, and 
rig up some clothes from some of your old things, for 
the child to wear.” 

“ Oh, I think she will make a lovely girl, with those 
great brown eyes of hers,” cried Janet, enthusiastically. 

And she has dimples, too. I know we can make the 
sweetest thing of her, and — ” 

But Nathalie didn’t wait to hear the rest. She was 
so overjoyed to think it had turned out all right, that 
she was in a hurry to reassure Danny, whom she real- 
ized had been greatly worried over the circumstance. 
But how did they come to dress the child as a boy? 


190 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

she queried as she hurried into the room, where the 
now little girl had fallen fast asleep in Nathalie’s bed, 
while her brother watched beside her with a white, 
frightened face. 

‘‘ Tell me, Danny,” inquired Nathalie gently, as she 
laid her hand on the boy’s head, “ how did you come 
to make a boy of your sister? ” 

A quick sob broke from the lad. And then, with a 
stiffening of his chin, as if with the resolution that he 
would not give way, while furtively wiping his eyes 
with the back of his hand, he told how, when Granny 
Maguire died, and his little sister’s clothes, after a time, 
wore out, he had been compelled to clothe her in his 
cast-off rags, because he had no others, and he didn’t 
know where to get them. 

She didn’t like it no way at first,” the lad’s blue 
eyes twinkled, but she got kind o’ used to it, an’ then 
I promised that when she growed big I’d let her be a 
girl. And whin the leddy that does the settlement 
work corned round and wanted me to go ter the coun- 
try I couldn’t leave the kid, and when she said he 
could come too, I didn’t squeal on meself, but jest kept 
mumlike, for they wouldn’t have let her come wid me if 
they knowed she was a girl. Sure, marm, we’ll have 
ter wait till morning to go back,” the lad tried to 
steady his voice, fur the boss wid the brass buttons 
on the train told me there ain’t no train till then. 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 191 

Can we walk to the station, do yer think? he inquired 
pleadingly. 

“ But you’re not going back, Danny,” replied Na- 
thalie, “ You’re going to stay right here with me, as 
long as you’re good and mind me. It doesn’t make a 
bit of difference if your sister is not a boy. I wrote 
for three boys, for I thought boys could take care of 
themselves in a way. Then, as we have no servants 
here, and I get tired sometimes with so much to do, I 
thought that boys would be more of a help. But we’ll 
dress your sister as a girl, and — Oh, don’t cry, 
Danny,” for the boy had turned his head aside, and 
was silently struggling with his sobs. 

But they were sobs of joy, as Nathalie soon discov- 
ered, as, with a final shake of his thin shoulders, he 
faced about and cried : ‘‘ Oh, thank you, ma’am. No, 

I ain’t no blubberin’ calf, but sure I just couldn’t let 
the kid go back alone — and — But Gee, leddy, it 
sure is heaven up here with these big hills — and the 
green trees — and the flowers — And, leddy,” he 
pulled at Nathalie’s sleeve as she turned to go away, 
“ I kin be a sight o’ help ter yer, for I knows how to 
wash dishes, and I kin cook too, a good bit.” 

“ Oh, that will be just fine, Danny,” enthused Natha- 
lie, ‘‘ for I am wild to have a man chef, and I’ll let 
you wash all the dishes you want to, for that’s a job 
I hate. And, Danny,” said the girl, patting the boy’s 


192 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


shoulder gently, ‘‘ we are going to make it as near like 
Heaven up here as we can. But come, son, you must 
be tired.'’ And then she led the boy up-stairs to the 
upper floor, where, in a large corner-room, she had 
taken the other boys, who were undressed and ready to 
tumble into the three beds. 

After directing Danny to sleep in the double bed, 
as he was the largest, so that each one of the smaller 
boys could have a bed to himself, she showed them the 
closet and how to hang up their clothes, — what little 
they had, they had brought tied up in handkerchiefs, or 
on their backs, — she turned to go. Yes, and you 
must be sure to get up, every one of you, when you hear 
the big bell ring in the morning.” 

She had reached the door, after bidding them good- 
night, when a sudden thought turned her back. And 
then Nathalie had her first solemn moments with her 
boys, as she told each one that, before getting into 
bed, he must say his prayers, so as to thank God for 
the good things that had been given them that day. 
The little Italian lad immediately drew out his rosary 
and began to say his beads, but Danny scratched his 
head in a dubious sort of way, and mumbled that it was 
so long since he had said his prayers that he couldn’t 
remember what he was to say. 

But this forgetfulness on Danny’s part was soon 
remedied, as the girl made him kneel by her in the 
moonlight that streamed through the window, and sol- 


NATHALIE’S LIBERTY BOYS 193 


emnly repeat, “ Now I lay me down to sleep,” adding a 
few words as a suggestion to the boy as to what he 
should add to the prayer. Danny, with a brighter face, 
now began to prepare for bed, and Nathalie, as she 
again turned to leave the room, stopped to speak with 
the refugee. And then the girl’s eyes grew moist, for 
he had stolen into the darkest corner of the room, and, 
with his one hand solemnly upraised, was repeating a 
prayer softly to himself, while the little yellow cur 
stood at attention by his side. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE MOUNTAINS WITH SNOWY FOREHEADS 

I T was something of a surprise the next morning to 
Danny’s companions, to see a little maid, clothed 
and in her right mind, as Janet expressed it, come 
shyly into the dining-room, — a little maid who bore 
a very strong resemblance to the brown-eyed, curly- 
haired, whimpering little lad of the day before. The 
black eyes of the Italian boy, Tony, widened, and then, 
with a shy gleam of humor in. their liquid depths, he 
nodded at the little girl, crying under his breath, “ Oh, 
Boy! ” But the little maid proved herself competent 
to manage the situation to her satisfaction, as she 
quickly made a face at him, for which she was prop- 
erly rebuked by Nathalie, who, however, was on the 
verge of a laugh, while a ripple of amusement gleamed 
in her mother’s eyes. 

Jean, the Belgian refugee, stared with some perplex- 
ity at the small girl, and did not comprehend the curi- 
ous situation until the children had left the breakfast- 
table, when Nathalie made it plain to him. 

The girl found that the morning hours were well- 
occupied, as she started right in to put her boys through 
194 


THE MOUNTAINS 


195 


their paces, as she called her drilling, so as to prepare 
them not only for a very happy, but a useful, summer's 
stay. She had noticed, during the morning meal, that 
the children, with ready sympathy for the maimed boy, 
had been rather officious in trying to help him, and 
that his thin, sickly face had flushed with embarrass- 
ment and over-sensitiveness at the fact that to them he 
was an object of pity. 

Instantly divining how she would have felt under 
like circumstances, Nathalie managed to get Danny 
and Tony together, when Mrs. Page, whose mother- 
heart had gone out to the boy, had taken him down to 
the barn to show him where he could keep his dog, and 
Janet had taken possession of the little maid. 

In a few words she told them the tragic story of the 
Belgian, and, after gaining their interest, made it clear 
to them how they themselves would have felt if they 
had been different from their mates, and warned them 
about being too open in their method of helping him. 
She suggested that little acts of subtle kindness would 
be more appreciated, as they would not offend his sensi- 
tiveness. 

Danny was now installed, with a big apron tied 
around his waist, in front of the kitchen sink, taking 
his first lesson in Nathalie’s method of washing dishes, 
with Tony, the second helper, as the dish-dryer. 
Divining that it would not only be better for Jean, the 
refugee, to have employment so as to fill his mind with 


196 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


something besides his sad experiences, and realizing 
that he would naturally want to do as the other chil- 
dren, Nathalie made him her right-hand man, as she 
called it, and showed him how he could assist her in a 
number of ways. In a few moments he was labor- 
iously carrying out, with one hand, the food to Natha- 
lie, who quickly placed it in the ice-box, or closet, 
while little Sheila removed the soiled dishes to the 
kitchen, happy at being on the job, as Danny said. 

From dish- washing, preparing the vegetables for 
dinner, sweeping the kitchen and shed, and dusting the 
dining-room, it was bed-making. Jean was made cap- 
tain of the Working Squad, eager to help by doing 
what he could with his one hand, while seeing that the 
boys did their work as Nathalie had instructed them. 

Fortunately for Nathalie, she was a fair French 
scholar, and as the Belgian lad had lived in one of the 
Walloon provinces, where French is generally spoken, 
she had no difficulty in conversing with him. He could 
speak a little English, but in a queer, hesitating way 
that made him shy over it. 

When the morning duties were finished, and they 
were not done with a magician’s wand by any means, 
but with the exercise of great patience on the part of 
their young instructor, and a good deal of drilling on 
the children’s part, they all hurried out into the sun- 
shine. Here they raced about, enjoying the fresh air, 
the green trees and the flowers, and the beautiful 


THE MOUNTAINS 


197 


mountain views, and then they made the acquaintance 
of Sam, who not only introduced them to the fascina- 
tions of the barn, — as the cows, pigs, and chickens, the 
soft cooing doves who flittered over the barn-roof, — 
but to the one dray-horse. This animal proved a 
source of unfeigned joy to the boys, as Sam taught 
them how to harness it, and then allowed each one to 
ride it bareback, even Jean, whose pale face glowed 
with a strange joy, as he held the reins with his one 
hand, and rode up and down on the road in front of 
the house. 

From the barn there was an inspection of the farm, 
going down a green slope to watch the sheep as they 
quietly browsed, and then on to the orchard, where 
they had their fill of fruit, while in the vegetable gar- 
den many hands profifered willing assistance to Natha- 
lie, as she gathered what was needed to replenish the 
vegetable larder. From here they all trooped down to 
pay a visit to the farmerette, whereupon Janet set them 
all to weeding. Strange to say, Jean pulled up the 
greatest number, to Nathalie’s surprise, who, by this 
time, began to understand that real industry, even if 
one-handed, can accomplish a good deal. 

Finally Nathalie lined her charges up under the 
trees on the lawn at attention, and undertook to teach 
them the military salute, but before she was through 
she was somewhat puzzled as to whether she or the 
boys was the instructor. After they had saluted the 


198 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


flag, which Sam had run up on the top of the barn 
for that very purpose, and which was to be the boys’ 
duty in the future, they had a little soldier’s drill. 

A few words were then read, very softly, by Na- 
thalie from the Bible. She had concluded that this 
would be a good way to give them a bit of religious 
instruction, especially for a beginning. She had be- 
gun the reading by getting them interested in the book, 
on whose fly-leaf was written the name, Philip Ren- 
wick, by telling them how she had found it in a little 
room on the upper floor of the house. She then told 
them about this boy who had left his mother to travel 
abroad, how he had married, and had then come home, 
only to leave his mother and return to Europe, never 
to be seen by her again. They were much interested 
in the story, especially when she showed them the pic- 
ture of the young man in the library, and from that 
time onward the little Bible seemed to possess a pe- 
culiar interest to them, and thus led them to become 
more interested in the every-day Scripture lesson. 

After the “ Star-Spangled Banner ” and several pa- 
triotic songs had been sung, and the “ Marseillaise ” 
had been given with much spirit by the boys, Janet, 
who had just come up from her farm, appeared, and 
patriotically kept time with her rake. She became so 
interested in the little singers that she volunteered, to 
Nathalie’s delight, to drill them in the national anthems 
of the Allies. 


THE MOUNTAINS 


199 


Whereupon Jean, with a new eagerness in his be- 
wildered eyes, up with his hand, and made Nathalie 
understand that he could sing, too. Nathalie smil- 
ingly encouraged him, and in a few moments the lad’s 
thin, quavering voice, that grew deeper as he caught the 
spirit of the words, gave them Belgium's song of cheer. 
This inspired Tony, and he became the soloist, and 
sang Italy^s national anthem. 

There was a do-as-you-please time ” after dinner 
dowm on the lawn for an hour or so, and then the boys 
were mustered in the bathroom and initiated as to how 
to manipulate a tooth-brush, in a tooth-cleaning drill, 
Nathalie having supplied herself with three new 
brushes in anticipation of this procedure. Sheila, who 
was not one of the drillers, — only three brushes hav- 
ing been provided, — looked with envious eyes upon 
this performance, and, when Danny had finished, in 
a plaintively aggrieved voice complained to their young 
teacher that he would not let her have his brush so that 
she could clean her teeth, too. 

Explanations were now in order, Nathalie smiling 
amusedly at the idea of loaning a tooth-brush, and then 
they were all made as presentable as possible, consid- 
ering their ragged clothes, which had begun to prey 
upon Mrs. Page’s mind, as well as Nathalie’s. But 
the clothes part was something that had not presented 
itself to the girl when she had planned the boys’ com- 
ing, and she was at a loss to remedy the trouble. 


200 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Certainly something must be done to do away with 
Tony’s old velveteen embroidered vest, his greatest 
treasure, and Jean’s soiled white shirt, which seemed 
to be the only one he possessed. Danny’s clothes, al- 
though they had been queerly darned and glaringly 
patched, and were miles too small for him, were clean, 
and he did have a change of underclothing, to Natha- 
lie’s relief. 

However, the general shabbiness of the boys’ ap- 
parel had not affected their merry spirits, the girl de- 
cided, as she sat knitting on the veranda, and heard the 
happy, joyous voices that floated up from the lawn, as 
they played leap-frog, ran races, and turned hand- 
springs. Even Jean, caught by the contagion of the 
moment, turned a somersault, to her breathless amaze- 
ment. 

She was beginning to realize what Mrs. Van Vorst 
meant when she spoke of what the glorious wonders of 
these mountains would mean to the half-fed, sickly lit- 
tle waifs of humanity from the East Side of New York. 
Yes, it meant a new world, with no more squalid, 
stifling two-by-two rooms, or damp, moldy cellars. 
No more nauseating smells, odors from the backyard 
garbage-can, the rattlety-bang of heavy trucks and 
milk-wagons, or the jarring creak of the Elevated. 
For, as Sheila expressed it, they were in a “ big green 
world, with high blue walls, with flower stars a-peepin’ 
at ’em from the grass, and little teeny birds a-singin’ 


THE MOUNTAINS 


201 


and rockin’ their babies to sleep in tall trees, that 
nodded to ’em with a swishy whisper.” 

Suddenly the serenity of Nathalie’s cogitations re- 
ceived a shock, as a horrible swear-word came, no, not 
floating, but yelling, its way across the green. The 
girl jumped up and rushed down under the trees, to 
see Tony, with his soft, appealing ways, and Danny, 
with the blue eyes that she had already begun to trust 
for the frankness of their gaze, rolling on the lawn, 
locked in a vice-like grip, as they pommeled and 
pounded each other in a way that made Nathalie gasp. 

Sheila, with squeals of delighted glee, was circling 
about the combatants, piping shrilly, “ Give ’im a 
plug in the snoot, Danny ! Pound ’im in the mug ! ” 
to the accompaniment of big, forceful oaths that rolled 
from the mouths of the fighting boys. As the little 
maid sighted Nathalie, she ejaculated, with a broad 
grin, Ain’t them kids fierce ! ” which caused poor 
Nathalie to gasp again. 

“ Oh, boys, you mustn’t fight ! ” the agonized girl 
cried, as she reached down and tried to separate the 
young pugilists, with her limbs all of a tremble. But 
her efforts were useless, and, regardless of her screams 
and expostulations, the punching and scratching con- 
tinued, punctuated by defiant yells, and such horrify- 
ing language that the girl shivered. 

As she stared as if fascinated by this new and re- 
volting experience, she saw a little trickle of blood ooz- 


202 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


ing down Danny’s face, for Tony, who was the under- 
dog, was an expert at nail-digging. It was a f earsome 
sight, and Nathalie, appalled by the thought that he 
might dig out an eye or so in his blinded wrath, in 
frenzied horror screamed, “ Oh, Tony, you’re killing 
Danny! ” But the only result of her cry was, ‘‘ Yer 
bet yer life he ain’t! ” and the hair continued to fly, as 
Danny yelled triumphantly, Gee ! I knew I could 
lick yer wid one hand ! ” and the gory battle continued. 

Then, in sheer desperation, hopelessly wringing her 
hands, she started in the direction of the house to call 
her mother. Suddenly she stopped. Oh, no; her 
mother would send them away, and then — O dear ! 
Ah, she knew what she would do. Terror speeded her 
feet, and two minutes later she reappeared on the lawn, 
and with one swing of her arm there came a terrific 
‘‘ Clang! Clang! ” as the girl, with big excited eyes, 
thrust the still clanging bell between the faces of the 
boys. 

The effect was magical, for the lads, with screams of 
terror, unlocked their arms, hands, and legs, and rolled 
apart, while gazing with dilated eyes, as if they had 
heard the crack of doom, at the bell that Nathalie had 
thrust into their faces. 

A few moments later, almost unclothed, dust- 
begrimed, blood-besmeared, and both sniffling from 
nerve-shock, but still breathing out dire vengeance one 
upon the other, Nathalie led her two charges up-stairs 


THE MOUNTAINS 


203 


and thrust one into the bathroom and the other into a 
dark closet. Jan, at this moment, appeared in the hall, 
and the girl excitedly dragged her into her bedroom, 
and, in a hushed, nervous whisper, made known the 
proceedings of the last few moments. 

But Jan, who at home was a district nurse, and had 
witnessed many slum fights, burst into a peal of laugh- 
ter. And then, with her face still red with mirth and 
laughter, demanded, “ Well, young lady, what else did 
you expect if you will take ragamuffins and street 
Arabs to your bosom? ’’ Nevertheless Janet’s sympa- 
thies were aroused, for Nathalie, if not for the boys, 
and in a few moments the two girls were industriously 
making the boys presentable once more. 

And then Nathalie led the culprits into a chamber 
apart, and began to upbraid them, trying to impress 
their young minds with the enormity of the wrong- 
doing of which they had been guilty. 

But the spirit of the cave-dweller was not yet sub- 
dued, and, notwithstanding the girl’s persuasiveness, 
and her pleading attitude in her endeavor to make them 
see the error of their way, they kept up a wrangling 
duet of recriminations, each one accusing the other of 
punching him first, while stubbornly crying, ‘‘ Now, ye 
didn’t lick me.” 

Presently Nathalie, under the strain of overwrought 
nerves, and the sudden realization of the unforeseen 
responsibility of her position, burst into tears. Lo, to 


204 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


her amazement, her tears acted like oil on troubled 
waters, for the next instant a grimy hand tugged at her 
sleeve, as Danny, with troubled eyes, in a sudden wave 
of contrition, cried : “ Oh, Miss Natty, don’t take on 

like that. Sure and I’m never goin’ to fight no more.” 

Meanwhile Tony’s black eyes, in dumb entreaty, 
grew bigger and bigger, until he, too, in sudden repent- 
ance, began to stroke her hand caressingly as his soft, 
musical voice pleaded, “ Please Mees Natta, Tonee, he 
lova you — he fighta no more.” 

Peace was making its way into each heart, when the 
purr of an automobile was heard, and as Nathalie hur- 
ried to the window, she saw Mr. Banker whirling un- 
der the porte-cochere. As the boys, paroled on their 
honor, a little later hung around the car, discussing its 
many merits, they were duly presented to the new- 
comer. That gentleman evidently liked small boys, for 
he immediately made arrangements to call for them 
some day, and take them to Littleton for an all-day 
good time. 

The following afternoon Nathalie, holding Sheila 
by the hand, with Jean by her side, and the two boys 
in front of her, started to show them the mountains. 
At the post-office at Sugar Hill village Jean, who had 
been delegated to act as postman the coming week, was 
duly initiated into the business of opening the mail-box, 
an office he accepted with a sudden lighting of his dazed 


THE MOUNTAINS 


205 

eyes, which Nathalie began to fancy were already los- 
ing some of their fear-haunted expression. 

A short visit was paid to the Sweet-Pea ladies, where 
they were treated to some maple sugar, Mona very* 
earnest in her endeavors to show sympathy for the lit- 
tle refugee, and her admiration for Sheila. As they 
hurried away, a bunch of sweet peas was seen on each 
little breast, pinned there by that gentle lady. 

A walk on the long, curving board-walk up the hill, 
with a rest on one of the benches under the maples, to 
Hotel Look-off, now followed. The three boys were 
anxious to start that very minute to climb Iron Moun- 
tain, but were soon persuaded that it was too warm a 
day for a mountain hike. From the long veranda of 
the hotel they were lured to admiration of the hilly, 
wide-spreading green sward, and the magnificent views 
of the mountains, as they rose and fell, receded and 
advanced, with their jutting pinnacles of rock, 
gloomed with the green of mountain forest. 

After slacking their thirst at the little spring-house in 
the grove, they sauntered down the board-walk to the 
Sunset Hill House, and as they interestedly watched 
the golfers in their bright-colored coats on the velvety 
green links, Danny proudly informed them that he 
knew how to caddy. But their enthusiasm grew tense 
when they stood on the little observation tower in 
front of the hotel, and Nathalie pointed out the Presi- 


206 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


dential Range, with Mount Washington towering six 
thousand feet up among the clouds. 

She then showed them the Franconia Range, ex- 
plaining that the great mountains were divided into 
clefts, or notches, from which flowed four long rivers 
and many smaller ones, several of them being named 
after the Indians, who, in the early times, lived on the 
mountain passes. 

With the help of the chart they soon learned that 
Lafayette was the highest peak of this smaller range, 
and that Pemigewasset, seemingly the nearest peak to 
the hotel, had been named after a great Indian chief- 
tain. The adjoining peaks, as the Kinsman and the 
Three Graces, proved of interest; also Cannon, or 
Profile Mountain, when the young girl explained that 
it not only had a stone, shaped like a cannon, on its 
top, but that from one of its sides a great stone face 
was to be seen. 

Nathalie now told her young listeners how the moun- 
tains were first seen, over four hundred and fifty years 
ago, a cluster of snowy peaks, by John Cabot, from 
the deck of his ship when sailing along the New Eng- 
land coast. They were called Waumbekket-meyna, 
the White Hills, and sometimes “ The mountains with 
the snowy foreheads,” by the Indians. 

The first white man to ascend these heights, she re- 
lated, was an Irishman named Field, who, two hundred 


THE MOUNTAINS 


207 


years after they had been seen by Cabot, with a few 
white companions, climbed to the topmost crag of the 
highest peak. “ Field found a number of shiny crys- 
tals which he thought were costly gems,’' laughed the 
girl merrily, “ but, alas, they proved to be only beauti- 
ful white stones, but, on account of this occurrence, 
the mountains came to be called Crystal Hills. 

‘‘ The Indian guides who had accompanied Field 
part way up the mountains,” continued Nathalie, “ re- 
fused to go any farther, for fear that the Great Spirit, 
who they believed lived in a magnificent palace on the 
highest peak, would destroy them if they ventured too 
near him. They were so surprised to see Field re- 
turn in safety a few hours later that they decided he 
was a god, for during his absence a great storm had 
arisen, which they believed had been sent by the Indian 
Manitou to kill him. The redmen not only believed 
that the Great Spirit sent forth the frost and snow, as 
well as the rain and fire, — the lightning, — but declared 
that the thunder was his voice.” 

The Indian legend of Pawan was eagerly listened to, 
as Nathalie told how the Indians asserted that when the 
earth was covered with water and every one was 
drowned, he and his wife, carrying a hare, had as- 
cended to the highest peak. When the waters began to 
abate, Pawan sent forth the hare, and when it did not 

I 

return he and his wife descended to the earth and dwelt 


208 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


there in safety, for the waters had dried up from off 
the land. From this man, the Indians declared, every 
one on the earth had descended. 

During the recital of these stories, Sheila’s red- 
brown eyes darkened to black, and every mountain 
peak assumed a weird and wonderful personality to 
her imaginative mind, fed, as it had been, by stories of 
fairies, pixies, and gnomes, as told to her by Danny, 
when playing the little mother. 

But the tourists now found that their appetites had 
been whetted by the keen mountain air, and gladly 
started on their homeward way to enjoy the supper that 
awaited them. After tea they gathered on the ver- 
anda, and Tony entertained them by playing on his vio- 
lin. Nathalie soon discovered that he not only played 
with considerable skill, but that Danny could whistle 
like a bird, while Jean and Sheila could pipe forth 
snatches of song in clear, childish trebles. 

The boys were rendered exuberantly happy a few 
days later at the unexpected arrival of Mr. Banker, 
who had come to give them a day’s outing at Littleton. 
Morning chores, military tactics, and other occupations 
were quickly forgotten, as Nathalie and her mother 
made them tidy for the trip, Danny, by the way, hav- 
ing kindly washed Jean’s one shirt the day before, — 
a housewifely occupation that he had become proficient 
in, from sheer necessity, — and Nathalie had ironed it. 

It was long past tea-time when the boys returned 


THE MOUNTAINS 


209 


from their pleasure jaunt, and told in high good spirits 
of the bully ” time they had had, what they had seen 
at the movies, and many other sights. Nathalie’s joy 
almost equaled the boys’ when they descended from 
the car, and she saw three smartly equipped lads, each 
one in a khaki suit, with brown shoes, a brimmed hat, a 
knapsack, and, the most prized possession of all, a gun ! 
The girl’s eyes filled with tears, and she had rather a 
tremulous time of it as she thanked Mr. Banker for his 
kindness, and especially for those much-needed clothes. 

Nathalie, with her brown-suited boys, — Tony with 
his violin and his embroidered vest, as he had soon dis- 
carded his khaki suit, Jean with his empty sleeve, and 
yellow-brown terrier, — and Sheila, in a pink sunbon- 
net, soon became familiar objects on the mountain 
roads. They were always greeted with pleasant smiles 
and nods from the passing tourists, Jean being re- 
garded with more than the usual curiosity, as his story 
had been rumored about. 

Many of them would stop and give him money, until 
he had so many silver coins that Nathalie had to make 
him a bag to keep them in, as he had declared that he 
was going to save them to take him back to France, 
so he could find his father. It was not long before 
they had not only become hardy mountaineers, but 
familiar with all the near-by walks in and around Fran- 
conia and Sugar Hill. Jean, too, had begun to show 
a decided improvement, not only having gained flesh 


210 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


and color, but having a brighter and more cheerful ex- 
pression in his eyes. 

And so the sunny days passed, cementing the bond 
between Nathalie and her charges, and each one learn- 
ing something that would be of help in the days to 
come. And then, one day, Nathalie had an inspira- 
tion! 


CHAPTER XIV 


SONS OF LIBERTY 

O NE day Nathalie led the boys to a terrace, a few 
feet back of a brown-shingled cottage across the 
road from Peckett’s, and which stood on a lower 
spur of Garnet Mountain, facing the Franconia Range. 
Here, on this grassy ridge, gently sloping down to a 
green meadow below, skirted by a tree- fringed road 
edging the rocky pasture-land which gradually merged 
into the lower slopes of the range, she pointed out King 
Lafayette, and his lower mate, Lincoln, with his two 
slides. The Sleeping Infant, lying between the latter 
and Garfield’s sharply defined peak, was immediately 
heralded by the little maid, Sheila, as the long-lost in- 
fant, which some kind-hearted fairy some day, with 
her magic wand, would awaken. The Twins, and the 
huge Sleeping Giant, and some of the lower peaks, all 
came in for a share in the mystic doings of the little 
girl’s fanciful imagination. 

The atmosphere was so translucent that each shaggy 
crest, pointed dome, and spire of the range, sharply 
defined against the sapphire-blue of the sky, stood 
forth with a strange lucidity, seemingly so near that 
211 


212 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


one had the inclination to put forth a hand to touch 
them. 

Lafayette’s craggy foretop, standing up from the 
deep green-verdured gorge that cleft one side of it, 
was startlingly like some huge elephant’s head, with 
a mouse-colored, wrinkly and baggy-skinned trunk. 
The boys accentuated the resemblance by locating two 
big rocks, which, they declared, were the beady eyes of 
the animal, while Sheila insisted she could see the eyes 
move. 

As they rested on the ledge of a little circling wall of 
cobble-stones, evidently the unfinished foundation of a 
stone tower, Nathalie told how Lincoln’s rounded dome 
had been named in honor of a great American named 
Abraham Lincoln. “ Some people used to call him 
* Old Abe,’ or ‘ Father Abraham,’ not from any disre- 
spect,” continued the girl, but because he was so 
kindly in his nature, his heart so filled with love for 
mankind, that it was a title of honor, and showed the 
love of the people for him.” 

“ Ain’t he the gink that got to be President of the 
United States, and made the darkies free ? ” inquired 
Danny eagerly. 

Nathalie nodded, and then led the boy on to tell 
how Lincoln, from a long-legged, ungainly pioneer 
youth, brought up in a log cabin in the wilds of 
Indiana, ended his career as the hero of the greatest 
republic in the world. 


“ SONS OF LIBERTY ” 


213 


The little newsie told his story importantly, proud 
to think that he had remembered these odd bits of 
knowledge from the little schooling he had received. 
And what he didn’t remember Nathalie did, dwelling 
at length on the part this leader of men took in free- 
ing the slaves, and what slavery meant to the negroes 
of the South. 

As the little group listened with wide-eyed interest, 
the girl suddenly cried, “ Oh, children ! think what it 
would mean to you if you were not allowed to move 
about as you pleased, but were forced to do what you 
did not want to do, although you might be tired and 
hungry, and were driven about like cattle, and lashed 
if you disobeyed your master! ” 

She then explained that all men were born free and 
equal, and that God never intended that any man should 
be a bond-servant to his fellow-men. “ Every one,” 
she emphasized, “ has the right to enjoy the beautiful 
things of life without being subjected to cruel treat- 
ment, and forced to hard labor, as the slaves had been, 
just because their skin was black instead of white. 

But there is another kind of slaver>%” said Nathalie 
earnestly, “ which, althoug'h it may not mean the slav- 
ery of the body, like that of the negroes on a planta- 
tion, is the slavery of the will. That is, a man may 
not be lashed on his back, but his will is made subject 
to another man’s will, and he has to obey and direct 
his life the way this man says, whether he wants to 


214 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


or not. All over the world, for centuries, the people 
of different nations have been forced to obey the will 
of one man, that is, the ruler, or the king, of the na- 
tion to which they belonged. The peoples of the world 
have not been free ; they have not had the right, or the 
liberty, to do as they thought or felt.” 

She then tried to make the children understand 
that liberty was something as high and wide, and as 
vast, as the beautiful mountains which rose before 
them. “ It is like the air,” she said, “ or the at- 
mosphere, which stretches about you on every side, 
and around the great earth like a gray blanket. It is 
so big it can’t be seen, like the mountains, or measured, 
and yet it can be felt. For if you were shut up in a 
box without any air, or atmosphere to breathe into 
your lungs, you would die. So liberty, God’s special 
gift, is so dear and sweet to man, that without it he 
can’t grow or expand, for he is like a man shut up 
in a box without air. He is like a little Tom Thumb, 
for he can only grow just so high.” 

Nathalie now interested the children in the story of 
the Pilgrims, the pioneers of liberty in America, tell- 
ing how, because they were not allowed to have liberty 
under the rule of the English king, they came to this 
new world and sought to worship God as they deemed 
right. In doing this, she explained, they not only 
founded a colony where they had the right to worship 
God as their conscience dictated, but they made re- 


“ SONS OF LIBERTY ” 


215 


ligious freedom possible for the people who came after 
them. By the signing of the Compact in the cabin of 
the May-flower, they gave this nation democratic lib- 
erty, by giving every man the right to express his 
thoughts and feelings, thus giving him a say as to 
how the people should be ruled, which meant a govern- 
ment for and by the people. 

Nathalie now told of the patriots, and how, in the 
War of the Revolution, they fought the mother-coun- 
try, England, in order to maintain the liberty given 
them by the founders of the nation. By uniting the 
thirteen colonies into one, they not only added unity to 
justice and liberty, but gave us the United States of 
America. 

‘‘ These lovers of liberty also organized a society, in 
New York, which became known as the Sons of Lib- 
erty, all the members determined to defend with their 
lives the liberty and principles given them by their 
forefathers. As liberty means the right to express our 
thoughts and feelings, it also means that these thoughts 
and feelings must be good and pure, the best within 
us” added the girl with sudden gravity. “ And these 
Sons of Liberty were so called not only because they 
fought for liberty, but because they gave of their best 
to mankind” 

Danny added another link to this story of liberty 
by telling about the Declaration of Independence, and 
how the Liberty Bell was rung from the old State- 


2I6 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


House in Philadelphia, so that every one should know 
that a new nation had been born. The ride of Paul 
Revere was described with spirited impressiveness by 
the boy, as well as what had occurred on Lexington 
common, and the famous battle by the old North 
Bridge at Concord. 

Whereupon Nathalie pointed out Mount Washing- 
ton’s cone-tipped crest, majestically rising above a 
wreath of silver-gray clouds, and explained that, al- 
though the Indians had named it Agiochook, in later 
years the white people had named it Mount Washing- 
ton, in honor of the great man Danny had been telling 
about. 

After dwelling upon Washington’s magnificent char- 
acter, and recalling little incidents from his life, Natha- 
lie said that, like the great mountain that towered so 
far above its fellows, so George Washington, the first 
President of this great nation, was known to civiliza- 
tion as one of the greatest men in the world, because 
he had given of his best to help his fellow-men, and 
proved that he was a true Son of Liberty. 

Jefferson Mountain, its crest rising in low humility 
near Washington’s greater height; Adams, whose 
stony front stood forth in rugged grandeur on the left; 
and Madison, Monroe, Franklin, Clay, and Webster, as 
well as other peaks, were pointed out to the children, 
each one named for some great American, who had 
proved his right to be known as a Son of Liberty. 


“ SONS OF LIBERTY ” 


217 


To be sure, some of the peaks were shrouded in a 
veil of mystical haze, while others were but dimly dis- 
cerned, as they peeped between the gaps made by their 
nearer mates, but each and every one served to illus- 
trate in whose honor it had been named, and why he 
was a lover of what every one loved — liberty. 

Nathalie now drew the children’s attention to Mount 
Lafayette, and said that this peak had also been named 
in honor of a great man, also a Son of Liberty, al- 
though he was not an American. The children had 
heard the name of Lafayette mentioned so often in 
connection with the present war, that they listened with 
greedy avidity as the girl told about this Boy of Ver- 
sailles,” as some one had called him, when, as the young 
Marquis de Lafayette, — a mere boy, — he used to lead 
the revels at that famous French palace in helping the 
girl queen, Marie Antoinette, make merry at her gar- 
den parties, when her boy husband was too busy in his 
workshop, taking some old clock apart, to entertain his 
guests at court. 

She told how the little marquis loved to walk behind 
the brave soldiers of the day, the one ambition of his 
life being his longing to be a soldier. She told, too, 
of his life in the lonely castle among the southern 
mountains of France, where his only companions were 
governesses and masters, all intent upon drilling him 
to dance, to bow with courtly grace, to pick up a lady’s 
handkerchief, and other accomplishments of the court. 


2I8 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


After leaving the College du Plessis, where his edu- 
cation as a courtier was completed, he returned to his 
estate, now the heir to great wealth, where he used to 
spend his time making friends with the peasants, — the 
people who lived on his lands, — thus becoming ac- 
quainted with their mode of life. In this way he 
learned the need of liberty, the liberty that gave people 
the right to think and feel, and to express their 
thoughts and feelings, and the great need that the peo- 
ple of the nations in the world should have a voice in 
their own government, and thus learn to govern them- 
selves. 

Nathalie then told how, when the patriots of Amer- 
ica began to fight against King George in order to gain 
their rights, that the young nobleman, now tall and 
slender, with reddish hair and bright eyes, heard of it, 
and, although an officer in the French army, he deter- 
mined to go to America and help these people of the 
colonies to win their liberty. He had a young and 
lovely wife, — they had been sweethearts when chil- 
dren, — and yet so inspired was he to help the Ameri- 
cans that he left her. With a friend, the Baron de 
Kalb, he eluded the spies and officers of his own coun- 
try, and in various disguises finally reached Spain, 
whence he embarked for America, and gallantly fought 
with the American patriots during the War of the Rev- 
olution, winning fame not only for his bravery, but for 
his great friendship for Washington. 


“ SONS OF LIBERTY ” 


219 


‘‘ Indeed/’ said the girl, as she finished her recital, 
he was a real Son of Liberty, and it is a splendid 
thing to think that these two grand old mountains, fac- 
ing each other in such magnificent grandeur, should 
now be the monuments to these two wonderful men, 
monuments, too, that can only perish when the moun- 
tains turn and flee away at the command of the Most 
High God. 

Lincoln, whose life-story you know,” Nathalie 
pointed to the green- wooded heights of Mount Lincoln, 
“ also proved himself a Son of Liberty when he gave 
of the noblest and best that was in him to the people, in 
his great struggle to free the slaves. In fact,” the girl 
spoke a little sadly, “ this great man was not only a 
Son of Liberty, but he was a martyr to Liberty.” And 
then she told how he had lost his life because of his 
heroic determination to do what he thought was right. 

‘‘ Children,” cried the girl suddenly, facing the row 
of intent, eager faces regarding her, can any of you 
tell me who to-day are proving themselves true Sons of 
Liberty?” 

“ The soldiers who are fighting in the trenches ! ” 
burst from Danny quickly. 

Before Nathalie could assent, a thin, quavering voice 
burst out with the ringing cry, ‘‘ Vive la Belgique ! 
Vive la Belgique ! ” 

Good for you, Jean,” cried the girl, as she enthusi- 
astically clapped her hands in approval. ''It is long 


220 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


live Belgium. Yes, Jean, the soldiers of Belgium, of 
France, England, and America, too, now, are proving 
themselves Sons of Liberty, because they are all fight- 
ing to give liberty to the world. And brave Belgium,” 
patting the shoulder of the refugee, whose pale 
face was strangely illumined, every man in that 
little country has proved that he is a Son of Liberty, 
when, rather than dishonor the great principles of lib- 
erty and justice, he took up arms and defended it 
against the Germans when they made their mad rush 
to Paris. They not only saved France, but every na- 
tion as well, saved it so that each man in it could fight 
and thus give liberty to the world. Now, children, 
let us cry with Jean, ‘ Vive la Belgique.’ ” 

When this cry ceased, Tony’s velvety black eyes, 
with a sly gleam of humor lurking in their shadows, 
became scarlet flames, suddenly remembering that his 
native land was also in the war, and, with dramatic 
fervor, he yelled, “ Viva I’ltalia ! ” 

Danny, not to be outdone in this burst of patriotism, 
immediately started in with the lusty shout of, Hur- 
rah for the United States! Hurrah for the United 
States!” 

Altogether it was a very patriotic little company that 
stood by the old stone ledge facing those blue-hazed 
mountains on that sunny afternoon and “ yelled their 
heads off,” as Danny said, in honor of the Sons of Lib- 


“ SONS OF LIBERTY ” 


221 


erty, who were fighting in the trenches across the sea 
to give liberty to the world. 

After the shouting and demonstration of the patriots 
had begun to wane, Nathalie put up her hand for 
silence, and then, in her simple way, the way that some- 
how always seemed to go right to the heart of every 
child, said very softly, ‘‘ And now, children, let us 
show that we, too, each one of us, want to do what is 
right, to give of our best to make others happy. Let 
us show that, although we cannot go and fight in the 
trenches, we are still Sons of Liberty, by keeping a big, 
deep place in our hearts for the boys in the trenches, 
not only our American boys, but the boys of the Allies, 
every soldier of every nation who is fighting for the 
victory of peace and right. 

I know you all want to belong to the Sons of Lib- 
erty, that you would like to show that you are real sol- 
diers, fighting for the right ; and so, will you not bow 
your heads for a moment, and down in the big, deep 
place in your hearts, silently say a little prayer? Just 
ask God that He will bless the .soldiers, these Sons of 
Liberty across the sea, who are fighting for you and me, 
and give them a great victory in this world’s battle for 
the rights of men, a victory that means happiness, love, 
and peace for every one in the world.” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 

T here was a frightened look on the faces of 
the children for a moment or so, and then 
Sheila cried in a distressed tone, '' But, Miss 
Natty, I don’t know how to pray that way.” 

Danny immediately flung about and flashed an anni- 
hilating look upon the little girl, but Nathalie, drawing 
the child close, explained what a silent prayer meant. 
Then, as she solemnly bowed her head, every little head 
went down, and for the space of a moment or so, up 
there on that high mountain, — that Nathalie always 
felt must be very close to God, — there was a reverent 
silence, a sacred moment, as from each child-heart went 
up a prayer. Perhaps it was only a dumbly spoken 
word, or a reverent desire, but surely God heard. 

As Nathalie raised her head, and the children fol- 
lowed her example, — evidently there had been some 
peeping eyes, — all ^ut Jean, who still kept his head 
down, his pale lips slowly moving, there was a mo- 
ment’s quiet, and then Nathalie exclaimed, “ Oh, boys, 
what do you say to calling these rocks a fort? ” 

Crackie ! that will be dandy ! ” responded Danny 
quickly. And, Miss Nathalie,” he added, his face 
222 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 223 

lighting with sudden thought, “ why can’t we call it 
Liberty Fort? ” 

And so the round ledge of cobble-stones was named 
Liberty Fort, and then, before Nathalie realized what 
the suggestion carried, Tony proposed that the path at 
the foot of the terrace on which the fort stood, on the 
summit of the lower slope leading down to the meadow, 
be a trench. 

Other suggestions followed, which culminated in a 
lengthy discussion, leading the children the following 
afternoon to the woods, where they gathered dried 
leaves, and little pebbles and twigs, to fill some bags, 
which Janet and Nathalie had made out of some old 
potato-sacks, to represent sand-bags to pile on top of 
the trench. The two girls meanwhile sat in the fort 
and not only made epaulettes for the young soldiers’ 
shoulders, but also gas-masks, which these Sons of 
Liberty vociferously declared that they must have, or 
they would be gassed. 

After the Stars and Stripes, with the various flags of 
the Allies, had been fastened to a pole and mounted on 
the fort, the battle of the Marne took place, repre- 
sented by these small soldiers, with guns held high, 
leaping over the sand-bags and rushing madly down 
the slope to the meadow below, which had been named 

No Man’s Land.” Here, with eyes aflame and hair 
all tousled, they fought frenziedly with the imaginary 
gray uniforms of the German soldiery, who were sup- 


224 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


posed to have rushed towards them from their en- 
trenchments, the stone wall by the road just beyond the 
meadow. 

It was great sport, notwithstanding that their hel- 
mets — old tin pails — would insist upon falling over 
their faces just when some very wonderful capture was 
about to be made. But they soon learned not to mind 
a little thing like that, as Danny observed with officer- 
like brusqueness — he was the general-in-chief of these 
liberty forces — that only slackers or mollycoddles 
would stop fighting for a hat. So they fought most 
furiously, imitating in every way possible the ma- 
neuvers and tactics of the soldiers in France. 

They took possession of a rustic seat on the ridge 
near the woods for an outpost, and here Sheila, with 
a big paper soldier’s cap on her head, was posted to 
parade with military precision before it as a sentry. 
Danny, meanwhile would climb a tree, to watch a make- 
believe enemy’s aeroplane, or to play the role of a bird- 
man, getting ready to fly in a patrol over the enemy’s 
entrenchments. 

The parts the little girl played were numerous, some- 
times acting as a canteen girl, selling lemonade and 
make-believe “ smokes,” — twigs trimmed to represent 
cigarettes, — or again, playing the part of a captured 
Boche, always insisting that she was a prince, or some 
high German official. She entered into the playing oi 
holding up her hands in token of surrender, while call- 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 225 

ing “ Kamerad with dramatic fervor. Then, as if 
suddenly reminded that she was a scion of royalty, she 
would take to fighting and kicking furiously to be re- 
leased, bringing her teeth into action, and inflicting 
sundry bites on her captor with such energy that Na- 
thalie, or Janet, tricked out with a white head-gear, 
starred with a red cross, would hurry to the scene, and 
bind up with soft rags the wounds of the afflicted one. 

Jean, who had begun to prove that his real self was 
only lying dormant beneath a shroud of sorrow, was 
triumphantly happy as the bugler, and one day sug- 
gested that they have a tank, — he had seen one on a 
battle-field. An old tin can was then procured from 
Sam, which had done duty in holding chicken-feed. 
It was now made to roll, in a horribly queer way, down 
the slope and over No Man’s Land, maneuvered by 
Jean, who was inside of it, and who proved that he was 
a keen trailer of the Boches, as the lad always called 
the Germans. 

The boy frightened Nathalie, sometimes, by the in- 
tense hatred he displayed whenever the Germans were 
mentioned, as his face would grow tense and a sudden 
fire would flame up in his eyes, while his one hand 
would clench rigidly and his little form tremble with 
the force of the passion within his breast. 

But the children did not always play at war in 
France, for sometimes they were Indians, and would 
wriggle over the grass snake-fashion. They were all 


226 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


sachems, or big chiefs, named after some red-skinned 
hero of some Indian tale Nathalie had told them, each 
one intent on scalping some white man. Sometimes 
Jean would teach the boys how to play some of the 
games played in Belgium, as jet, a game which seemed 
to be played with a stick on a stone, and which they 
all seemed to enjoy. Then again they would play hop- 
scotch in Jean’s way, and which he called “ Kalinker.” 
But always at the end of their play they would line up 
in the circling ledge of stones, and, as if inspired by 
Nathalie’s suggestion on the day of their first visit 
to the fort, stand very still as they again bowed their 
heads in a silent prayer for the boys who were fighting 
“ over there.” 

Then, one morning, a telephone rhessage came from 
Mr. Banker that he would be up that afternoon and 
take the children to the Flume. Whereupon they all 
became so exuberantly happy that Nathalie had rather 
a hard time pinning them down to their usual duties. 

After a delightful drive, in which Nathalie and Mr. 
Banker were kept busy answering the many queries 
propounded by the sightseers, as they gazed in awed 
wonder at the strange rock formations with their 
purple and green tints, the silvery waterfalls, and the 
many natural beauties of the Notch, they arrived at 
the Flume. 

Here, opposite the Flume House, they climbed a zig- 
zagging path up a hill backed by two massive moun- 


r 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 227 

tains, and then went through a belt of woodland to 
inspect the Pool. This was a mountain freak, a great 
basin over a hundred feet wide and forty deep, hol- 
lowed out by the Pemigewasset River’s age-old tools, 
sand and water, as they flowed over its rocky bed. 

The lustrous green of its waters rippling between 
lichen-covered cliffs, and canopied by overhanging trees 
— that looked as if they would fall from age — was so 
transparent that the children could see the shiny peb- 
bles at the bottom of the Pool. 

On returning to the road they started for the Flume, 
passing over a wooden bridge, and then up an incline, 
a sort of up-hill-and-down-dale road, as it followed the 
mountain brook flowing from the cascade that dashed 
over the rocks at the head of the gorge. The wild 
picturesque beauty of this Gallery of the Gods,” as 
Mr. Banker called it, not only elicited many exclama- 
tions from the children, but brought forth more weird 
fancies from Sheila, which challenged the humorous 
gleam in that gentleman’s eyes many times. 

The child’s mind was so rich in imagery, that every 
hooded mountain or queer-shaped cliff, every passing 
cloud or glint of sunlight as it filtered down through 
the leaves in the forest, and the soft patter of the rain- 
drops as they danced on the window-pane in a storm, 
were sources of constant delight. In childish prattle 
she would tell Nathalie what the wind said as it swept 
through the trees, or came with a soft rustle around the 


228 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


comer of the veranda on a breezy day. The soft twirl 
of a leaf, the trill of a bird in the silent forest, were all 
pixie-whispers. 

She would pick up a leaf from the road, beautiful to 
her in its satiny greenness, or some gay-petaled flower, 
and talk to it as if it were her dolly, or some tricksy 
creature from fairy-land, always giving it some fanci- 
ful name that was keenly suggestive of its nature. 
Animals she caressed and fondled with the fearless 
confidence and love of trusting childhood. 

They finally reached the remarkable rock gallery in 
the very heart of the mountain, which Nathalie now 
introduced to them as Liberty Mountain. She ex- 
plained that it was cut in two by the deep gorge, or 
fissure, known as The Flume, whose walls reached to 
a perpendicular height of fifty or seventy feet, while 
at its farther end a mountain-brook came dashing down 
with great splashes of white foam. 

The children were hushed to profound wonder at 
the frowning gloom of the great wall that reached so 
high and dark above their heads, with its patches of 
green moss, and where, from its many crevices, young 
birches had fastened their roots, and ferns and vines 
clung to soften its harsh gray. Every now and then 
a tiny white mountain-flower could be seen peeping 
down at them, like a fairy, Sheila declared, from a 
mossy bed of green. 

They climbed up and up, stepping from rock to 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 229 

rock, to clamber at last over the slippery smoothness 
of the granite ledges. Here the cascade had simmered 
to a lazy flow, to eddy with a silver tinkling into the 
many hollows that perforated the rocks, making tiny 
glistening pools, which gave the children unfeigned 
delight as they dipped their hands in its soft trickle. 

But when they reached the narrow foot-bridge, 
sometimes only railed by a single birch pole, or a rope 
that clung tremblingly to one side of the steep wall, 
and looked down into the gorge below, they came to 
a sudden halt. With a haunting fascination they 
watched the brook as it now dashed with a mad plunge, 
splashed with patches of snowy foam, over the masses 
of green-embossed boulders, that looked as if they had 
been tossed, helter-skelter fashion, into the narrow slit 
of rock, in angry mood, by old Father Time. 

With strange awe they glanced up the gorge, through 
the weird gloom of the scene, at the pearly glitter of 
the falling water, with its blur of green background, 
that appeared as if some miraculous hand had suddenly 
wrenched the earth apart to send forth its flashing 
spray. And then they grew curiously still as they 
spied the eerie shadows on the high black wall, where 
the sunlight, as it glinted down into the glen in wanton 
sport, played hide-and-seek with golden glimmer. 

But the silence was broken as Mr. Banker pointed 
out a huge tree-trunk that had fallen across the stream, 
reaching from side to side of the gorge, making an 


230 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


aerial pathway high above their heads. When the 
gentleman said it was called “ The Devil’s Bridge,” and 
that sometimes people had walked on it across the 
gorge, their tongues began to clatter. 

Fired by curiosity, the boys regained their nerve 
and pushed manfully up the foot-bridge, barred with 
slats, like a horse’s plank, while Mr. Banker, holding 
little Sheila by the hand, followed close behind. Na- 
thalie, with a strange timidity, hesitatingly followed, 
always being oppressed by an odd, queer feeling when 
ascending any great height, a feeling that she wanted 
to cling to something more tangible than space. But 
there was nothing to cling to but that shaky old railing, 
and little Jean was hanging to it fearsomely with his 
one hand, his little form shaking tremulously, and his 
eyes black with an odd fear. 

Stirred to pity, Nathalie drew the child to the other 
side of her, near the high wall, away from that gaping 
rut in the earth beneath, and then caught him firmly 
by the shoulder. Then suddenly, perhaps it was a 
quick glance down into the depths below, she felt a 
strange, indefinable sensation pass through her. A 
deathly faintness seized her; she closed her eyes, and 
then she felt herself falling, falling — 

But a pitiful cry from the boy, “ Oh, Mademoiselle 
Natty! No, you not fall! Jean will hold you,” 
aroused her, and she opened her eyes to see the white 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 231 

face of the boy, as he stared up at her while clutching 
her frantically with his one hand. 

Oh, no, Jean; I’m all right now,” but even as she 
spoke that same old sensation again thrilled her. She 
felt sick and faint again, and then — 

Rather steep just here, isn’t it? But ding to that 
rail, and you’ll be all right; you can’t fall.” 

The girl turned quickly, once more roused from the 
sudden fear that had assailed her, and found herself 
gazing into the sun-tanned face of a young man in 
khaki. He had slipped his arm back of her, against 
the railing, as if to prevent her from falling, while 
from under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat two 
dark-blue eyes, heavily lashed, smiled down at her re- 
assuringly. 

Nathalie heaved a deep sigh. Oh, it was such a re- 
lief to see that strong, brown hand grasping the rail. 
And then, with a quick little smile, in sudden realization 
of her foolish fancy that she was slipping down into 
the gorge below, she cried, “ Oh, I don’t suppose I 
could fall, but something — O dear! I know I am 
very foolish, but I always feel so queer when I stand 
on any great height, especially when I look down.” 

“ That is a sensation that is shared by many people 
when they get up in the air, I guess,” was the kindly 
response. And then, as if to give the girl time to re- 
gain her poise, he turned to Jean. Do you see that 


232 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


place between the walls ? ” directing the child’s gaze 
to a place midway between the top of the gorge and the 
brook below. “ Well, ever since the Flume has been 
known to white men,” he continued, '' a great rock, or 
boulder, was wedged, or suspended, between the two 
walls. It was like a nut in a cracker, a most curious 
sight. 

“ I remember it as a child, when up in the moun- 
tains,” he related, and always had a strange fear that 
it would tumble down. But every one asserted that it 
was an impossibility, for it would take an earthquake, 
or some great convulsion of nature, to dislodge it. 
Nevertheless I always fought shy of it, and would 
scurry by as if a witch was after me. But, strange 
to say,” continued the young man, smiling, and show- 
ing his even white teeth, “ the prophets were away off, 
for it fell just a few years ago, and without the aid 
of an earthquake.” 

‘‘Oh, did it fall on any one?” gasped the girl 
quickly. 

“ No, luckily for the wise-alls; for it fell in the mid- 
dle of the night, and no one was hurt.” 

Nathalie drew a relieved sigh. “What an escape! 
Oh, suppose it had fallen when some one was passing 
beneath it I ” 

“ Well, they would have been pulverized,” laughed 
the young man. “ I beg your pardon. Miss, but would 
you not like to have me help you to the top? For I 



The girl found herself gazing into the sun-tanned face of a 
YOUNG MAN IN KHAKI . — Page 231 . 




THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 233 

see you have the little boy with you, and, as you are 
timid, I do not think I would risk it alone.” 

'‘Oh, thank you; you are very kind,” replied the 
girl hastily, her face dimpling, for she had begun to 
feel like her old self. “But no; I don’t think I will 
venture any farther. I guess I am too timid. I will 
go back.” She glanced down at Jean, who was gazing 
up at the young soldier with worshipful awe in his 
eyes. 

“ Let me assist you down, then, to where you will 
not be aflfected by the height.” And Nathalie, glad to 
think that she did not have to turn back and go down 
that plank alone, allowed the young man to pilot her 
down, firmly grasping her by the arm, until she stood 
where she asserted she felt no fear. She would wait 
there on the rocks, until the rest of her party came 
down, she said, after thanking her rescuer. 

The young man bowed silently, lifted his hat, and 
turned to ascend the foot-bridge again, while Nathalie 
sought a rock where she and Jean could sit down. But 
in a moment he was back at her side, crying, “ I beg 
your pardon,” Nathalie noticed that he had a pleasant 
voice that somehow had a familiar ring to it, “ but 
perhaps the little boy would like to go up to the top, 
as every one likes to see the cascade as it plunges over 
the rocks. I will take good care of him if he would 
like to go,” glancing at the little empty sleeve with a 
compassionate expression in his eyes. 


234 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Nathalie was on the verge of saying, “ Oh, no ; I 
think Jean would rather stay with me,” when she 
caught a sudden expression in the boy’s eyes that 
caused her to say, Jean, would you like to go to the 
top with this gentleman? Mr. Banker and the boys 
are up there, you know.” 

There was no doubt as to the child wanting to see 
and to do as the other children, or his evident trust in 
the young soldier, and a minute later the young man, 
with Jean’s hand held firmly in his, was guiding the 
child’s steps up the foot-bridge. 

Some time later, as the car glided along the road 
on its homeward journey, a short distance from the 
Flume House, Mr. Banker showed the party a singu- 
lar rock-formation, caused by the undulations of the 
topmost ridge of Liberty Mountain. The outlines 
were those of a huge recumbent figure, wrapped in a 
cloak oi shroud, and bore such a close resemblance, es- 
pecially the contour of the forehead and nose, to those 
of General Washington, as after his death he lay in 
state, on view to the public, that it had been called 
“ Washington in State.” Many people, he asserted, 
claimed that the great American’s body should lie at 
rest on this mountain ridge, named for what the great 
man had striven so hard to maintain, liberty, and thus 
be his everlasting mausoleum. 

A six-mile ride and they descended from the car, to 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 235 

walk to the shores of Profile Lake, a few feet from the 
road. But it was not to look at the sunlit sheen of 
silver water, embedded like a gem in a green and purple 
forest setting, but to gaze with awesome wonder at a 
huge stone face. It was the Old Man of the Mountain 
that gazed forth with a stony stare from a steep and 
craggy setting, twelve hundred feet high above the 
lake, on the battlemented spires of Profile, or Cannon 
Mountain. 

It was another weird formation created by Father 
Time, that Mr. Banker claimed looked as if it had been 
stuck on the huge mountain-cliff, like the head of some 
criminal of medieval days, when spiked on the stone 
gateway of some kingly stronghold for some dastardly 
deed. 

But this face is not that of a felon, for note the 
calm majesty, the beautiful benignity of its expression. 
To me,” commented the gentleman, ‘‘ it is an unchange- 
able token and an everlasting confirmation that there 
is a Creator, and bears witness to the account in Gene- 
sis where it says that God created man in His own 
image, ‘ in the image of God created he him.’ ” 

Mr. Banker explained that the face was composed 
of three masses of rock, one forming the forehead and 
helmet, another the nose and upper lip, and the third 
the chin, and that the whole length of the rock- face 
was eighty feet from the top to the bottom. When 


236 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


viewed at a close range it lost its contour, and seemed 
but a few huge rocks tumbled one upon another, with 
no regularity of form or feature. 

After the boys had studied the gigantic “ face in 
air,” as Sheila called it, and deciphered many oddi- 
ties Upon it, evoked by her imagination, Nathalie told 
them the story of The Great Stone Face.” 

They were all greatly interested in Hawthorne’s 
tale, and readily grasped its meaning, that, after all, 
it was goodness and greatness gained by studying the 
great and good in others, the giving of our best to 
our fellows as Sons of Liberty, Nathalie tried to ex- 
plain, that helped one to become godlike. 

Mr. Banker then told the legend called Christus 
Judex, which told of an artist, who had resolved to 
paint a picture of Christ sitting in judgment, and how 
he wandered up and down the world from one place 
to another, seeking in art galleries, palaces, or 
churches, a face that would serve him as a model for 
his great masterpiece. But alas, it was not to be found, 
not even among the paintings of the old masters, and 
finally, lured by some wayfarer’s tale, he crossed the 
sea, and in this great stone face found the countenance 
that embodied the features and the expression that 
satisfied his ideal. 

After walking a short distance around the lake, to 
view its beauties, and picking out the stone cannon on 
the top of the mountain, they drove to the Basin, an- 


THE GALLERY OF THE GODS 237 

other rock-wonder, a miniature edition of the great 
Pool. Giant’s Heel, a rock-formation of a human leg 
and foot, seemed to possess a luring charm to the chil- 
dren, and after they had studied it, and then discussed 
it with curious wonder and awe, the little party started 
on their homeward drive. 

On the way Mr. Banker pointed out various stone 
formations, among them the Elephant’s Head and the 
head of a dog, while Echo Lake, alight with the calm 
glow of a setting sun, revealed so many tempting bits 
of lake-wonders that the children begged that they 
might spend a day there, as it was not far from Fran- 
conia village. 

Nathalie was unusually quiet on the homeward ride, 
not only feeling almost too tired to talk, but pondering 
with a puzzled air over the young soldier-boy. She 
had a vague feeling that she had seen his face before, 
but where ? She finally determined to push the matter 
from her mind, when a sudden smile leaped to her 
eyes. Oh, what a ninny she was, for he was one of 
the soldier-boys she had met at Camp Mills, to whom 
she had proffered the cherries! And he had not only 
helped to gather them up from the dust of the road, 
but he was the boy who had waved his hat to them in 
a parting salute as the car whirled out of sight! 


CHAPTER XVI 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 

O NE afternoon, as Nathalie was preparing to 
take the children on a tramp to Butternut 
Lodge, an old farmhouse on the opposite side 
of Garnet Mountain, that had been fitted up for picnic 
parties by the proprietor of a near-by hotel, her mother 
called her. 

“ Nathalie,” she said, as the girl appeared in answer 
to her call, “ I wish you would run over to the little red 
house and see Mrs. Carney. Sam tells me she is ill, 
and that his wife, who generally looks after her, is 
visiting some relatives. It would be only neighborly 
if you would take her some fruit custard; there is 
plenty in the ice-box, left over from dinner.” 

“ But, mumsie,” pleaded the girl in an annoyed tone, 
I can’t go this afternoon, for I have promised to 
take the children to Butternut Lodge. And then,” she 
added rebelliouSly, I don’t want to go to see that 
horrid old woman. Why, I thought that you had de- 
cided not to have anything to do with her, after the 
disagreeable way she acted ! ” 

Yes, that is so, daughter,” replied Mrs. Page with 
238 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


239 


a slight smile, “ but, like a good Christian, I changed 
my mind, a privilege I reserve to myself when occasion 
warrants. When I heard from Sam that the poor 
creature was alone in the world, I made up my mind 
to play the part of the good Samaritan. We can well 
overlook the oddities of the aged, and it must be trying 
to lie there all alone, with no one to give you a helping 
hand or a comforting word.^' 

Nathalie was not conquered, as she had a stubborn 
will, and she had been rudely repulsed so many times 
that she felt her duty did not require her to accept any 
more humiliations. She was about to argue the case, 
when suddenly the motto that she had vowed to make 
her own that summer, flashed before her mental vision 
with a vivid distinctness. 

Making no reply, she slowly walked out on the lawn, 
where the children stood waiting for her. After ex- 
plaining her reasons for giving up the afternoon hike, 
she turned to hurry into the house, determined to get 
the disagreeable task over as soon as possible. Half- 
way up the steps she paused, her eyes lit up with an 
amused thought evidently, for, with a half-laugh, she 
turned and hurried back to the group standing with 
woe-begone faces, trying to think what they could do 
to ease their disappointment. A moment later they 
were crowding about her, listening eagerly as she 
talked, their faces keen and bright, as if with the in- 
spiration of a novel appeal. 


240 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Some time later, Nathalie, with a queer little smile 
dimpling the corners of her mouth, knocked softly on 
the screen-door leading into the little red house. As 
she heard a faint “ Come in! ” in answer, she gently 
pushed the door open and entered. In her hands she 
carried a bowl, while behind her, all cautiously tiptoe- 
ing, as if afraid of making the slightest sound, came 
four small figures, each one carefully holding some- 
thing for the invalid, whom they found lying on a 
couch in the front room. 

‘‘ Good afternoon, Mrs. Carney,” said Nathalie, and 
then, in a distressed tone, “ Oh, I’m afraid we have 
disturbed you, but Sam said you were not feeling well, 
and mother sent me over with the boys, to see if we 
could not help you in some way. We have brought 
you something, too, that may possibly make you feel 
better.” 

The girl was in the throes of despair, as no reply 
came from the recumbent figure, only the slow-moving 
of a big fan. O dear! she thought, perhaps her little 
ruse to relieve the awkwardness of a most curious 
situation was not going to succeed. 

But at this instant, Sheila came forward. Her sym- 
pathies had been aroused on learning about the curious 
old lady, and on finding that there was nothing for her 
to carry to the sick one, she had gone out to the road- 
side and gathered a big bunch of wild flowers, to her a 
panacea for every ill. 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


241 


These she now thrust towards the figure on the 
couch, crying, in her sweet childish treble, “ I’m sorry, 
lady, you’re sick, but here’s some flowers; I picked 
’em for you.” The child spoke in a half-frightened 
tone, somewhat at a loss to understand the silence be- 
neath the handkerchief-covered face. 

Suddenly the handkerchief was withdrawn, and the 
old lady sat bolt upright, with a startled exclamation, 
gazing in amazed wonder at the four small figures, 
with their pleading eyes and offerings of sympathy, 
standing in a row before her. 

“ Bless me! ” she cried, a half smile dawning in her 
sharp eyes. “ Where did these children come from? ” 
“ Oh — why — they’re my Liberty boys,” answered 
Nathalie quickly, with a sudden flash of relief that at 
last the old lady’s silence was broken. 

“Your Liberty boys?” she questioned with some 
bewilderment, as she peered keenly at the slim young 
figure. “ But you’re too young to have these boys.” 

“ Oh, but they’re not mine ! I’m not married,” ex- 
claimed Nathalie, a merry note in her voice. “ Why, 
I’ve just adopted them for the summer, so I call them 
my boys. I suppose they’re what you call Fresh-Air- 
Funders; that is, they live on the East Side in New 
York, and I’m afraid the poor things wouldn’t have 
had any outing if I hadn’t brought them up here to get 
a breath of this mountain air, and — ” 

But at this point, Jean, scrupulously faithful to Na- 


242 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


thalie’s drilling, took a step forward, and, holding out 
his plate of fruit, in his fright forgetting the little Eng- 
lish he knew, cried, Voici du fruit! ” 

The woman peered at the boy, and then, with a 
slight cry as she saw the little empty sleeve, drew him 
to her, as she took the plate of fruit carefully from his 
hand. “ Why, you poor lad ! ” she exclaimed in sud- 
den tenderness. “ So you have some fruit for me. 
Is he a refugee?” she queried softly, turning inquir- 
ingly towards Nathalie. 

As the girl nodded dumbly, Tony pushed forward 
his offering, a covered dish of milk toast. Quickly 
removing the cover, he smacked his lips with gusto, 
while his velvety eyes glanced in a smile, as if to say, 
‘‘ Here’s something nice for you, too ! ” 

By this time Nathalie saw that the atmosphere had 
cleared, and after she and Danny had proffered their 
gifts, — some chicken soup and custard, — with the help 
of the boys she drew a table to the side of the couch. 
Deftly unfolding a napkin for a covering, she spread 
out the toothsome dainties before her hostess, while 
Sheila, in childish prattle, entertained her new friend 
by telling about the fairies, whom she insisted lived in 
the flowers. 

As the old lady partook of the edibles that had been 
prepared for her, the children, won by her seeming in- 
terest, with childish confidence told her about their 
lives in the city, how they liked the beautiful moun- 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


243 


tains, all about their many battles down at the old 
stone ledge, and how they were all learning to be Sons 
of Liberty. This drew Nathalie into the conversa- 
tion, and she was soon animatedly telling how she 
happened to become a Liberty Girl, and how she was 
not only trying to carry out her plans in regard to 
liberty up there in the mountains, but was anxious to 
help the children know what it meant to become good 
Americans, and to understand why our nation had sent 
soldiers across the sea to fight the Hun. 

Tony needed but one invitation, and the violin was 
brought forth from under his arm, — he always car- 
ried it, — and presently he was playing some little 
Italian airs, after which Jean sang Belgium’s national 
anthem, at Mrs. Carney's request, and Danny recited a 
war-poem that Janet had taught him. Even Sheila 
contributed her quota to the impromptu entertainment 
and recited “ Betsy’s Battle Flag,” as she, too, was a 
pupil of Janet’s, that young lady having become so 
interested in the children that she had not only helped 
her friend to teach them to sing, but had taught them 
to recite. 

But now it was time to go, as Nathalie did not want 
to weary Mrs. Carney, although, to the girl’s surprise, 
that lady insisted that her sick headache had disap- 
peared, cured, she laughingly confessed, by the young 
visitors, who had entertained her so charmingly. 

With the promise to call again with her charges. 


244 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Nathalie hurried them away, happily content that she 
had followed her mothers suggestion and tried to be 
helpful and kind to her seemingly odd little neighbor. 
“ It pays to be pleasant with people,” she remarked 
sagely, as she related the results of the visit. “ For 
even if you don’t like them it gives you a pleasant feel- 
ing to think that you have done ‘ your bit ’ in keeping 
the chain of brotherly love well oiled.” 

Mrs. Page sat knitting on the veranda the following 
morning when Nathalie came hurrying out of the house 
with an angry light in her eyes. Oh, mother, what 
do you think ? ” she exclaimed irritably. Cynthia 
has set the children all looking for that mystery thing. 
Did you ever hear of anything so absurd? And they 
have gone wild about it, and are running around the 
attic and the upper floors, pulling things about in a 
most disorderly fashion. Oh, I do think she is the 
limit!” 

Mrs. Page looked at Nathalie in silence for a mo- 
ment, and then said, with some amusement in her 
eyes, “ It is absurd, but don’t get wrought up about it. 
Cynthia hasn’t stopped to think. She is so anxious to 
find it that it has become an obsession with her. But 
it won’t do to let the children get mixed up in anything 
of that kind.” Her face sobered, and for a space the 
only sound was the clicking of her knitting-needles, 
while Nathalie, with a frown on her face, pondered 
how she was going to undo the mischief that Cynthia 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


245 


had wrought, keenly realizing what would follow if the 
children were not stopped in looking for something 
that she knew they would never find. 

“ Go and tell the children to come here, Nathalie,” 
said her mother, “ and we’ll have a little talk.” The 
girl, with a brighter face, complied, as she always felt 
greatly relieved, when anything went wrong with her 
boys, to have her mother straighten things out. 

In a moment they were on the veranda, looking very 
much bedraggled and dust-begrimed, as, with faces 
eagerly alert, they told what they had been doing, after 
a little adroit questioning on the part of Mrs. Page. 
It did not take the good lady long to make it clear to 
the mystery-seekers that this valuable thing that they 
had been searching for was something that only con- 
cerned Nathalie and her cousins. 

She now made it clear to them that the searching 
was undoubtedly a whim on the part of the former in- 
mate of Seven Pillars, and that the finding of it simply 
meant a reward to the one of the three girls who had 
proved the most industrious in looking for it. She 
ended by saying that it would not likely be of any great 
value, adding, “ And, children, it would not be yours 
even if you found it.” 

“ Oh, but we’re going to give it to Miss Natty ! ” 
came a chorus of determined little voices. ‘‘ And Miss 
Cynthia said it was something awful rich,” added 
Sheila, “ and I just guess that it must be a great big 


246 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


jewel, or a pot of gold.” ‘‘ Sure, and we want Miss 
Natty to have it,” ended Danny, with big, disappointed 
eyes. 

This was not the first time that Mrs. Page had had 
to do away with a seeming mystery connected with 
Mrs. Renwick’s peculiar instructions. For the mys- 
tery-room had proved a source of morbid curiosity to 
the children, as they questioned as to what was behind 
that great, dark red curtain. They would scurry by 
the door with bated breath and big, excited eyes, in 
whose depths lurked a latent fear of some unknown 
terror, until Mrs. Page had ordered the curtain down, 
declaring that the door simply closed, and barred, 
would end the mystery. 

Fortunately the children’s attention was now turned 
to other matters, but Nathalie, somehow, could not put 
the incident from her mind. She had a vague, con- 
science-stricken feeling that she would never gain the 
reward for being industrious, for although she had 
not failed to make an entry in her diary, she had failed 
to search as diligently as she should have done. 
Whereupon, with a silent vow that she would put aside 
an hour every day for this disagreeable task, she 
hastened upstairs to put her plan in execution. 

Nathalie was lying in the hammock in the moonlight 
a few evenings later, half -drowsing. She was more 
than usually tired, for they had spent the day at But- 
ternut Lodge. It had been an all-day hike, setting 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


247 


forth in the forenoon with a climb up old Garnet, 
starting in at the log gate-posts opposite Peckett’s 
flower-garden. 

Ascending a grassy incline studded with rocks, 
where mountain-sheep and a gray donkey meandered, 
nibbling the coarse grass, they entered the cool damp 
of the forest gloom, where hundreds of trees con- 
fronted them. Age-ringed and gnarled, their limbs 
twisted in eerie contortion to grotesque shapes, they 
stood in the dim cathedral light bristling with shadows, 
a battalion of ghoulish-looking sentinels, guarding the 
rock-crowned heights. 

But on they climbed, up the pine-needled path, step- 
ping from lichen-covered rocks to gnarled tree-roots, 
or clambering deftly over blackened, flame-ficked tree- 
trunks, that barred their way like yawning chasms. 
Every now and then they would stop to gather some 
tiny wood posy peeping coquettishly from the crevice of 
a broken crag, or a crimson-dyed leaf on a mossy patch, 
or to brush aside the black loam to burrow among 
dead leaves for feathery ferns, or one of the tiny um- 
brellas, as Sheila called the many-colored toadstools 
that grew by the path. But when the little maid spied 
a fleur des fees, a daintily-colored anemone, her delight 
was beyond bounds. 

Sometimes they would pause to listen to the moun- 
tain-wind as it swayed the tops of long rows of trees, 
that, with the daring recklessness of new life, stretched 


248 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


their bare-limbed trunks upward to catch the golden 
sunlight on their glossy leaves. But the sweetest 
melody, perhaps, was the wind that swept in solemn- 
toned harmony through the twisted boughs of the old 
mountain-guard. 

But the wind was not the only musician that sunny 
morning up there in the stilled hush of the green wood, 
for sometimes it was the soft note of a belated bird’s 
warble, coming with a haunting sweetness from the 
dim recesses of the shadowed gloom, or the hammer 
of a woodpecker as he plied his tool of trade. 

But feathered songsters and musical wind were for- 
gotten when the children struck the Red Trail, — 
splashes of red paint smeared at intervals on the bark 
of the trees to keep travelers in the path. The boys, 
as they scurried ahead, soon discovered a Yellow Trail, 
and then a Blue Trail, sign-posts to the lone wood- 
chopper, perhaps, as he comes down the woodland path 
in the deep snows of winter. The Yellow Trail, they 
discovered, led down the mountain, coming out on the 
road near Lovers’ Lane, the wooded path opposite 
Seven Pillars. Nathalie now showed them how to 
blaze a trail that belonged exclusively to the Girl 
Pioneers, and their interest became tense with excite- 
ment as she became their leader and deftly bent the 
twigs in the shapes that meant so many things to the 
Pioneers. 

A little log cabin nestling beneath a clump of pine 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 249 

trees, on the edge of a slope, just below Agassiz’s 
Rock, tempted the children to wander from the beaten 
path. But they soon returned, and, in wide-eyed won- 
der, declared that they had seen a pair of shoes by the 
door. Sheila was quite insistent that some fairy god- 
mother lived there, whereupon she was rudely told by 
the boys that fairies never wore shoes. The children, 
however, were loth to leave the spot, curiously won- 
dering as to who lived in the log hut. 

But as no one was to be seen, either within or with- 
out the cabin, they followed Nathalie, and were soon 
standing on a jagged rock on Garnet’s top, in a won- 
derland of views that made them feel that they were 
indeed birds of the air, skimming swiftly through a 
dim, mystical atmosphere. With hushed breath and 
wide-seeing eyes they gazed down upon low-lying val- 
leys, — dabs of green between craggy rocks and lofty 
steeps, gemmed with silver water, yellow corn-fields, 
and brown pasture-land. And above all, in picturesque 
grandeur, towered a rim of battlemented crests and 
ridges, silhouetted against curtains of crystalline blue, 
where sweeps of white cloud drifted in gossamer veils. 

On the wide green slopes surrounding the farm- 
house the children reveled in a summer-land of daisies 
and buttercups, that jeweled the softly creeping grass. 
While Sheila wove a wreath of mountain posies Na- 
thalie told how, some years before, a bag of gold had 
been found in a log of wood in the old farmhouse. 


250 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


This added a new glory to the scene, and there were 
many surmises in regard to this find, while the 
Girl Pioneer plied her craft and showed them how to 
make leaf-impressions in their little note-books, as each 
one had gathered a leaf from many trees on their way 
up the mountain. 

After Danny had made a camp-fire and they had 
had a hike lunch of frankfurters, roasted potatoes, 
and many toothsome edibles found in their lunch- 
boxes, they hurried back to the old farmhouse, and 
while the children peeped into the old-fashioned brick 
ovens in search of another pot of gold, Janet played on 
the yellow-keyed piano. Then came a stroll to a 
weather-beaten barn, where an old coach was stored, 
which had once been the mountain’s only method of 
conveyance, some decades ago, and on which was the 
name Goodnow House.” Of course they all had to 
mount the rickety steps and crawl inside on the wide 
leather-cushioned seat, large enough to hold almost a 
dozen children. Danny and Tony, however, soon 
clambered out and mounted still higher, up to the two- 
step-driver’s seat, where they pretended they were 
driving a tally-ho, with Sheila and Jean sitting back, 
within the railed top, as outside passengers, while Na- 
thalie and Janet, on the wide old seat within, acted the 
part of tourists traveling to the top of Mount Wash- 
ington. 

Wearying of these childish sports, Nathalie and 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


251 


Janet hied themselves back to the farmhouse, where, 
after resisting the inclination to drowse, induced by the 
lulling hum of the bees as they darted busily 
about in the sweet-scented, sunny air, they sat down on 
the little porch and took out their knitting. 

Suddenly the deep silence that they had drifted into, 
lured to thought by their active fingers, was broken by 
loud squeals, mingled with boyish shouts of laughter. 
And then a thrill came, as Nathalie suddenly perceived 
the old stage-coach, drawn by Danny and Tony as 
horses, while Jean, as the driver, was exultantly happy, 
perched up in the driver’s high seat. Sheila, mean- 
while, bewreathed and betwined with wild posies, sat 
within the coach, posing as a beautiful white princess 
who had been captured by bandits. 

Nathalie’s heart swung in wild leaps as she saw the 
one-armed boy’s perilous position, as the ramshackle, 
clumsy coach rocked like a cradle, and realized what 
it would mean if anything happened to it, as it was a 
most valuable relic to the proprietor of the hotel. 

With a sudden cry she jumped to her feet, and a 
moment later was excitedly explaining to the would-be 
bandits the wrong they had committed. In disap- 
pointed silence Jean was helped down from the top 
of the coach, and Sheila, in whimpering protest, was 
hauled out. Then, amid a profound and tragic still- 
ness to the children, they managed, with the help of 
the two girls, to get the stage back in the barn. 


252 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Whereupon, Nathalie closed the door and marched her 
charges off in another direction, while pondering how 
to amuse them, for she had learned that their active 
brains and nimble fingers must be kept busy or mischief 
would brew. 

A low cry from Sheila roused her, to see a few feet 
away, on the outskirts of the wood, a baby deer, gazing 
at them with mild eyes of wonder. But the cries from 
the boys caused it to leap wildly into the woods. 

Such had been the events of the day. 

Nathalie stirred uneasily, as a ray of moonshine fell 
athwart her face. She rubbed her eyes, and then sat 
up in the hammock, staring about in a bewildered, 
sleepy fashion. “ Why, I must have been dreaming,” 
she thought, vaguely conscious that she had been liv- 
ing over again the long day with its many adventures. 

“ But it must be late ; the children should be in bed.” 
She could hear Danny and Tony down on the lawn, 
their voices in loud and excited argument. O dear! 
she hoped they were not going to fight again, and then 
she gave a hurried “ Tru-al-lee ! ” 

At the familiar call the boys came hurrying across 
the lawn, when, to her surprise, she saw that Sheila 
was not with them. As she questioned them sharply 
as to her whereabouts, they insisted that they sup- 
posed that she was with her. The girl, somewhat 
alarmed, for the little lady was inclined to wander off 
by herself, instituted a search. The barn, grounds, 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


253 

Lovers’ Lane opposite, and even the little red house 
were peeped into, but all to no purpose. 

As Sam was in Littleton for the night, the boys were 
dispatched to Sugar Hill village to make inquiries, 
while she and Janet, who had just returned from a 
stroll in the moonlight with Mrs. Page, started to look 
on the road leading to “ The Echoes.'^’ Some time 
later the searchers returned to Seven Pillars to report 
that no clews as to the child’s whereabouts had been 
discovered. Suddenly distracted, conscience-stricken, 
Nathalie gave a low wail. 

Oh, I do believe she has gone to the top of Garnet 
Mountain ! ” The girl had suddenly remembered that 
for several days Sheila had been telling how one of 
the boarders at Peckett’s — a lady as white as snow — 
had told her that every moonlight night at twelve 
o’clock the fairies came out of the woods and danced 
on the top of Garnet. She had even suggested that if 
Sheila could see them, she might be rewarded by re- 
ceiving some of the beautiful garnets that were hidden 
in the rocks, and which only the fairies knew where to 
find. 

There was a grim silence at Nathalie’s cry, as each 
one stared at the other with a white, dismayed face, 
while Nathalie, with clasped hands, nervously swayed 
herself to and fro. 

A sudden scufhe of small feet caused them all to 
swing about, to see Danny hurrying towards the door. 


254 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“Oh, where are you going, Dan?” cried Nathalie 
in a choked voice, staring at the lad with bewildered 
eyes. 

“ I’m going to find my sister — Sheila — ” came in 
a strangled sob from the boy. 

“ But don’t go alone. I will go with you,” ex- 
claimed Nathalie, quickly springing to his side, as he 
stood with his face buried in his elbow, while his slim 
body heaved convulsively. 

It was soon decided that Janet and Dan would climb 
the mountain-trail that came out near Lovers’ Lane, 
Mrs. Page and Tony would hurry in the direction of 
Hildreth's farm, while Nathalie and Jean would fol- 
low the Red Trail of the mountain, opposite Peckett’s 
hotel. 

Twenty minutes later Nathalie and Jean, breathless 
from their hurried climb, paused for a moment by a 
big tree that stood ghoulishly somber by the path. As 
the girl, still panting, leaned against it, a ray of moon- 
light filtering through the canopy of leaves overhead 
showed that it was the Seat Tree, as they had named 
it on their climb that morning, on account of its sin- 
gular formation. 

By some freak of nature, from its main trunk, a 
shor.t space from the ground, another trunk had sprung, 
giving it the appearance of two trees in one, and in 
this hollow some kindly-intentioned person had placed 
a seat. As the girl perceived the seat she sat down. 


BUTTERNUT LODGE 


255 


and feeling Jean’s soft breath come puffing against her 
cheek, drew the tired boy down on her lap. Tige, the 
yellow terrier, crouched at their feet, his red tongue 
hanging out of his mouth like a signal-light in the 
weird darkness. 

Fortunately the darkness of the ascent had been 
lightened at intervals by the moon, which was at its 
full, so that the girl had not been compelled to use her 
flashlight except in the deeply shadowed places. When 
they had begun to climb, Jean had whistled, his cus- 
tomary way of calling Sheila, while Nathalie had not 
only called the child by name, but had given her 
Pioneer call of "" Tni-al-lee” 

But these calls had only re-echoed through the cathe- 
dral arches with such a dismal, dirge-like sound that 
they had desisted. Feeling sure that the child would 
keep near the path, Nathalie had kept her eyes busy 
peering on all sides of her, thinking that she could 
easily discern Sheila’s white dress if she was any- 
where near. 

All at once a low cry escaped the girl, as, with a 
convulsive clutch of Jean’s slight body, she bent for- 
ward, and peered through the eerie tree-shadows to a 
dim, flickering light that shone some distance beyond 
in the deep recesses of the forest. As the boy’s eyes 
followed her glance, in a tense whisper he cried, “ Oh, 
Mademoiselle! see, there is a man digging in the 
ground ! 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 

Y es, it was a man digging in the ground. The 
quivering, yellowish glare from a torch that had 
been stuck in the ground by his side — as it 
flickered and flared, sometimes almost extinguished by 
the night air, and then suddenly blazing to a vivid 
flame — silhouetted his form in sharp outline against 
the high rock by which he was standing. 

As the girl’s eyes dilated in puzzled wonder as to 
who the man was, and why he was digging in the 
woods at this hour of the night, a queer, odd quiver, 
or twitching of his head at times, as he bent over the 
spade, aroused within her a vague consciousness that 
she had seen some one before who had that same pe- 
culiar motion. 

Tige, the little yellow dog crouching at their feet, 
at this moment gave a low growl, a warning that he 
might betray their presence. Nathalie, quickly push- 
ing Jean from her lap, grabbed the dog, and snuggled 
him close to smother the growl, afraid that the man 
would discover that he had been seen. Assailed by a 
nameless fear, she seized Jean’s hand and pushed on 
256 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 257 

up the incline, stepping cautiously, almost noiselessly, 
on the fallen leaves and stones, ever and anon glancing 
back, as if fearful that the man would pursue them. 

Recalled to herself at Jean’s wide, frightened eyes, 
and the tremor of his slight form, she whispered with 
assumed courage, ‘‘ Oh, I guess the man is only bury- 
ing some dead animal, or something of that kind up 
here in the woods.” Nevertheless she was almost as 
frightened as the child, and was devoutly thankful 
when they reached a little clearing nearer the top, 
where the moon shone down with the brightness of 
day. 

Yes, it would be about here that Sheila would come, 
for it was not far from the jutting rock where they 
had seen such beautiful views that morning. With 
keen eyes the girl peered around, but only craggy rocks, 
scrubby bushes, tree-stumps — weird black objects in 
the moonlight — here and there, backed by a forest of 
heavily-branched trees met her gaze. Oh! what was 
that tiny glimmer of light over by the tree yonder? 
Was it a light held by the man who had been digging, 
and who was perhaps watching them from behind the 
tree? 

Nathalie’s heart gave a wild leap, again shaken by 
that nameless fear, and then, to* her intense relief, she 
saw that the light came from the little log cabin the 
children had found that morning in prowling about 
the clearing. Yes, some one must live there. But 


258 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


suppose it should be the man they had seen ? Ah, they 
would hurry on, and gripping Jean’s hand in a closer 
pressure, she started forward. But no; Jean stood 
obstinately still, with low-bent head, as if listening. 

What was it? Oh, it was a noise, — a low sound 
like a moan. Could it be Sheila? Was she lying 
somewhere there in the woods? Why, it sounded as 
if it came from the little cabin ! Nathalie’s head went 
up as she peered resolutely through the gloom. No, 
she would not allow her foolish fear to master her. 
She would go forward and see what it was — perhaps. 
A moment or so later the girl, still frenziedly clinging 
to the little boy’s hand, her heart leaping with anxious 
agitation and nervous fear, tapped loudly on one of 
the log posts of the open doorway, which was hung 
with what appeared to be a large dark-colored shawl 
that waved dismally in the wind. Almost immedi- 
ately, in answer to her rap, the shawl was pushed 
hastily aside and a man stood in the doorway. 

From the weird red gleam of a lantern that hung 
from the center of the cabin, Nathalie perceived that 
the man was young, with a strange pallor on his lean, 
brown face, which was lighted by large, densely black 
eyes, that were peering down at her from beneath a 
tangle of soft, wavy black hair. 

Inwardly quaking, but determined not to show her 
fear, Nathalie inquired, “ Have you seen anything of 
a little girl about?” Without answering, the man 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 259 

turned and was pointing towards a log couch built up 
against the wall, spread with an old army-coat. Na- 
thalie gave a hurried glance, and then made a wild 
rush forward, for the little form lying so strangely still 
on the coat was Sheila ! 

But the man’s hand stayed her as he said in a low, 
but pleasant-sounding voice, ‘‘ Sh-sh ! I would not 
awaken her. Poor little thing, she cried herself to 
sleep.” He then briefly explained how he had been 
awakened by the low whimpering of a child, and, on 
going out to the clearing, had found her sitting on a 
rock, crying piteously for the fairies to come and get 
her. He was moved to question her, and then, by a 
little coaxing, and the explanation that the fairies had 
all gone back to fairyland, as it was long after mid- 
night, he had coaxed the child into the cabin, and 
finally she had fallen asleep. As Nathalie bent over 
her in anxious solicitude she saw the undried tears 
still on her lashes, while low, whimpering moans — 
the sounds that had arrested her attention — came at 
intervals from between the soft, red lips. 

As the girl pondered as to how she was to get Sheila 
home, Danny’s policeman’s whistle, as he called it, 
followed by Janet’s shrill ‘‘ hoo-hooing,” announced 
that the rest of the party of searchers had arrived. In 
a short space they were all in the little cabin, animatedly 
discussing how to carry the little girl down the moun- 
tain. Danny, meanwhile, had hastened to the couch 


26 o 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


and was down on his knees, softly kissing the little 
hand thrown over the side, in the abandon of sleep, 
while the young man stood at one side, quietly watch- 
ing the little group. 

It was soon decided, at his suggestion, that they 
leave the little girl there in the cabin with Danny until 
morning, when there would be more light to get her 
down the mountain. This difficulty settled, with re- 
lieved hearts they were about to set forth on their re- 
turn journey down the trail, when Nathalie, whose 
eyes had been wandering about the rustic hut, cried, 
But do you live here all alone up on this mountain ? 

The young man’s eyes lighted. “ Why, yes, I live 
alone up here. It is not much of a summer-resort,” 
he said, with a rarely winning smile. “ Still it answers 
my purpose, for I am guaranteed plenty of pure air. I 
am an English soldier,” he volunteered somewhat 
slowly, “ and have recently come over here from Eng- 
land. I was wounded, — ” he glanced down at his arm 
with its gloved hand, and which Janet had been eying 
rather sharply, for it hung down in a strangely stiff 
way, — and I thought the mountains would benefit 
me. But I am very glad I found the child,” he broke 
off abruptly, as if he had been revealing something he 
did not care to talk about. “ I hope she will be none 
the worse for her adventure,” he continued kindly, 
“ even if she failed to find the fairies.” Nathalie had 
explained how the child had come to wander away. 








THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 261 


Early the next morning Danny and Sheila ap- 
peared, the little girl now quite wide-awake, but she 
grew very shamefaced when Mrs. Page scolded her 
gently for giving them such a fright, dwelling upon 
the deep anxiety she had caused Miss Natty, when she 
had been so good to her, too. The tears came into the 
brown eyes at this rebuke, and, impulsively running 
to the girl, she protested with a stifled sob that she 
would not run after any more fairies. 

Of course Nathalie had to kiss the woeful little 
damsel, but perceiving that the auspicious moment had 
arrived to impress her with a fact that she should 
know, she took her out on the porch, and then gravely 
and carefully made clear to the little mind that there 
were no fairies, but just beautiful fancies that existed 
in the brains of people, who put them in stories so as 
to make them interesting to children. 

But Danny, apparently greatly distressed, now drew 
Nathalie to one side, and confided to her that he be- 
lieved that the young man must be hungry and very 
poor, for there seemed to be no food in the cabin. 
And he had heard him mutter, — when he thought the 
boy was asleep, — as he counted some loose change he 
had taken from his pocket and thrown on the table, 
** Well, that won’t get much food.” And then he had 
sat very quiet for a long time, as if thinking. 

Nathalie immediately rushed to impart this news to 
her mother, with the result that, a half-hour later. 


262 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Danny and Tony, each with a basket filled with food, 
started up the mountain-trail. In his pocket Danny 
carried a note written by Mrs. Page, in which she not 
only thanked the young man again for his kindness to 
Sheila, but made it clear that the food came from the 
child, a thank offering to him, and that she hoped he 
would find it acceptable, as she knew that it must be a 
difficult matter to obtain much food up there on the 
mountain top. 

Some time later the two boys returned in a state of 
great excitement. They claimed that they had found 
the young man asleep on the couch, and although they 
had tried to awaken him, and had ‘‘ hollered and hol- 
lered right into his ear,” as Danny expressed it, he 
had not even stirred. The faces of the listeners grew 
grave as they heard this, and Janet, with a sudden 
sharp exclamation, turned and rushed up-stairs, to re- 
appear in a moment with a medicine-case and her hat. 
Her training as a district nurse was now to be put 
to a real test. “ I just believe that boy has been 
starved to death,” she ejaculated, her blue eyes lumi- 
nous with sympathy, “ for I could see by the look of 
him last night that he was in a bad way.” 

Of course Nathalie would not let Janet go alone, 
and so the two girls and the boys again hurried up the 
mountain to the cabin, where they found the young 
man not dead, as Nathalie had vaguely feared, but in 
a state of unconsciousness. Under Janet’s able minis- 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 263 

trations he was finally brought to, and after Nathalie 
had warmed some broth — Danny had made a fire in 
the open — it was gently fed to him by Janet. As 
Nathalie watched her, she opened her eyes in amaze- 
ment at the girl’s deftness and gentleness in handling 
her charge, for this indeed was a new phase of her 
cousin’s character. 

Won by the girls’ sympathy and interest, Philip 
de Brie — as that proved to be the young man’s name 
— - said he had been wounded at the battle of Loos, and 
then wounded again and taken a prisoner at the battle 
of the Somme. After many months, under most har- 
rowing circumstances, he had made his escape, and 
finally reached England, only to find that his mother 
had died in the meantime. As I was alone,” there 
was a perceptible quiver in his voice, — my father had 
died when I was a lad, — I decided to come over 
here. 

“ My father was an American,” he continued. “ I 
was born in America, and, as I knew that I had a 
grandmother living here, now my only relative, I felt 
that I wanted to see her. But I found that she, too, 
had died,” the young man’s eyes saddened, “ and, well, 
once up on these grand old mountains, somehow I 
wanted to stay, they seemed so restful after the nerve- 
shocked life of a battle-field and my prison experience. 
I found this old shack up here one day in wandering 
about, and, after finding its owner, hired it for the 


264 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


summer. You see, my arm was bayoneted by a Ger- 
man/’ his mouth set in a hard line, and was never 
properly treated in the German camp. Sometimes I 
fear I will lose it altogether. But you have been very 
kind to me — I shall get along now.” He attempted 
to rise, but Janet, forcing him back, insisted upon rip- 
ping open the sleeve covering the bayoneted arm, not- 
withstanding his protests, and here she found a con- 
dition that made her eyes grow very grave. 

After cleaning the wound and applying what rem- 
edies she had on hand, she rebandaged the arm, which 
made the patient feel much better, he affirmed. After 
giving him a soothing draught, and fixing him as com- 
fortably as she could with the meager bed-clothing in 
the cabin, so he could sleep, she and Nathalie withdrew 
outside. 

Under the trees the two girls sat and discussed the 
situation with much perplexity, for Janet maintained 
that it was a serious case, — that the young man’s tem- 
perature was not only rising, but that his arm needed 
a surgeon’s care. But what were they to do? And 
the girls’ eyes grew tragically grave as they realized 
that the young man was an object of much solicitude, 
alone and ill in a strange country, and evidently with- 
out any means. 

It was finally decided that they take turns in caring 
for him, with the help of Danny, who was not only 
sympathetically interested, but who was quite a handy 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 265 

man in many ways. He said he had learned to care 
for Sheila, and for the old woman whom he called 
his nurse, who had cared for them, and who was not 
only very aged, but miserably ill for some time before 
she died. 

But the next morning, unfortunately, — Janet and 
Danny had remained during the night, — the patient’s 
condition was worse and Janet, with tears in her eyes, 
besought Nathalie to go to the village and see if she 
could get help. 

As the girl hurried down the trail her mind was ac- 
tive. Oh, she did hate to make the young man a pub- 
lic charge, as he looked so refined, and had such a noble, 
winning way with him. And he was a soldier, too; 
yes, a “ Son of Liberty,” as she confided to Tony, who 
was by her side. For had he not been fighting in 
France to give liberty to the world? Why, there 
isn’t anything too good for him,” lamented the girl, 

and yet there he is up there alone, perhaps at the 
point of death for want of proper care.” And yet 
where was she to get the money to call a physician, 
and where could she find one, were perplexing ques- 
tions. 

As these thoughts ran rapidly through the girl’s 
brain, sometimes spoken aloud in her stress, inspired 
perhaps by Tony’s unspoken sympathy, as he gently 
patted her hand, she caught her breath quickly, and a 
bright fiash illumined her eyes. 


266 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Yes, I will do it,” she muttered aloud, absent- 
mindedly returning the boy’s caresses. “ I will take 
the money. I was saving it. O dear! ” Nathalie al- 
most wailed, “ shall I ever be able to save even a sou 
towards going to college? Well, it can’t be helped. 
I’ll just have to take it and see if I can’t get some one 
to tell me where I can get a physician.” 

Hurrying into the house, Nathalie informed her 
mother as to the patient’s condition, and then told that 
she intended taking the money she had saved and call 
a doctor. Mrs. Page kissed the girl softly with 
troubled eyes, saying gently, “ Never mind, Nathalie, 
you are investing your money at a greater per cent of 
interest in giving it to this unknown stranger, than if 
you used it for yourself. And then, who knows, 
dear ? Something may turn up some day — ” 

Oh, no,” cried Blue Robin in a discouraged voice, 
nothing will ever turn up.” And then, with a feeble 
smile, she cried, “ But, as you often say, mumsie, things 
are foreordained, and so perhaps it wouldn’t be for 
my good to have my wish. And then, anyway, I shall 
have the satisfaction,” the brown eyes were sparkling 
again, of knowing that the * drop in the bucket,’ is 
going to do some good to some one.” 

After finding Sam, who was rarely ill and could give 
her no information as to where to get a physician un- 
less it was at Littleton, she started for the village. 
As she passed the little red house she ran in for a 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 267 


moment to tell Mrs. Carney about the man in the cabin, 
as she had become much interested in the young man’s 
story. The queer old lady and the girl had become 
very good friends since that visit with the children, for 
Nathalie had learned that the sometimes sharp gray 
eyes covered a kindly nature, notwithstanding the old 
lady’s brusque, queer ways. 

“ Yes, it just breaks my heart to take my college 
money,” she dolefully confided. Then, half-ashamed 
of her repining, she tried to explain how college had 
been the dream of her life, and how many times sKe 
had been disappointed. A kindly gleam in Mrs. 
Carney’s eyes, however, assured her that the old lady 
understood how she felt, and after a hurried good-by 
she was on her way to the post-office. 

Nathalie feared she was going to get no more in- 
formation here than what Sam had imparted, when 
suddenly a lady, who had been standing near, and who 
had been interested in her story, informed her that 
there was a famous surgeon from New York up at the 
Sunset Hill House, and that possibly she could get him. 

Thanking her warmly, the girl hurried up the board 
walk to the hotel, — the children tagging on behind 
her, — feeling extremely nervous as she realized her 
boldness in asking a big physician, who had probably 
come to the mountains for a rest, to be bothered with 
a poor patient. And then, too, who knew what ter- 
ribly high prices he might ask for his services? Na- 


268 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


thalie began to feel that her ‘‘ drop in the bucket ’’ 
might not prove of any help after all. 

But, bracing to the ordeal, she told the children to 
wait at the little Observation Tower, as she called it, 
in front of the hotel, and hurried to the office. She 
had just nervously cleared her throat to question the 
clerk when the sudden cry, “ Oh, Nathalie ! Nathalie ! 
where did you come from? ” caused her to swing about. 
The next moment Nita Van Vorst had her arms about 
her, and was hugging and kissing her excitedly, while 
her mother stood by with pleased, shining eyes. 

After a hearty greeting from Mrs. Van Vorst, Na- 
thalie cried laughingly, although the sudden revulsion 
from nervous anxiety had brought tears to her eyes, 
“ Oh, where did you come from, and when did you get 
here?” 

“We arrived last night,” replied Nita, bubbling 
over with delight at being with her friend again. 
“ Our coming here is a surprise for you, and we were 
just going to see if we could get some information as 
to where Seven Pillars was, so as to motor there.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad to see you, and now you can see 
my boys! ” And then, after Mrs. Van Vorst had led 
them into one of the little side-rooms opening from the 
long hall, where they could converse without being 
heard, she told all about her boys, — Sheila, the boy- 
girl, as she called her, the good times they were all 
having, and about the young man who was lying so 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 269 

ill up on the mountain, and what had brought her to the 
hotel. “ I am so nervous,” sighed the girl, as she 
finished her story, “ for I don’t know this big man, 
and I dread to speak with him, for fear he will be 
brusque and sharp with me, but something must be 
done for that poor soldier boy.” 

“ Excuse me a moment,” exclaimed Mrs. Van Vorst 
after she had conversed a while ; “ I want to go 
and see if I have any mail.” But, to Nathalie’s sur- 
prise, she did not go in the direction of the desk, but 
hurried after a tall, rather stout gentleman who at 
that moment passed through the hall. 

But the little incident was forgotten, as Nathalie and 
Nita had so much to say to one another that they both 
talked at once, as if their tongues were hung in the 
middle. Nita insisted that her friend would have to 
remain to dinner with her, as she had so much news to 
tell, especially about the Liberty Girls, that it would 
take hours to tell it. 

In the midst of these many bits of enjoyed informa- 
tion, Nita’s mother returned, and Nathalie in a mo- 
ment was dazedly bowing to the tall gentleman, whom 
her friend presented as Dr. Gilmour. “ He is the 
surgeon, Nathalie,” she added smilingly, “ whom you 
came after. As he is a very old friend of mine, and a 
good American to boot,” she nodded at the gentleman, 
“ he has consented to go with you up the mountain to 
see your Son of Liberty, as you call him.” 


270 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ Oh, I am so glad ! I am so glad ! ” burst from the 
girl with a joy-thrilled voice. ‘‘ And, oh, I thank you 
so much; it is so kind of you,’^ she added with misty 
eyes, turning impulsively towards the physician. 

But the big man, with an amused smile in his keen 
gray eyes, patted her on the shoulder as he said, “ My 
little lady, I think that every true American should 
stand ready to do anything to help any man, or boy, 
who has been brave enough to face those fiendish 
Huns.” 

“ Oh, I think so, too,” cried the relieved girl, a wave 
of color flushing her cheeks, and I think it must have 
been that thought that gave me the courage to come 
and ask you.” 

“Oh, isn’t it just dandy!” enthused Nita, as Dr. 
Gilmour hurried away to get his little black case, while 
Nathalie led her friend down the steps of the veranda 
to where three little figures sat patiently waiting for 
her on the tower-steps. 

But the girl’s eyes widened as she suddenly per- 
ceived that they were not alone, for a brown-clad 
figure with soldierly bearing, but with a golf -bag 
slung over his shoulder, with one foot on the steps, 
was bending down and talking to the children. And 
then a sudden thrill stirred her as she recognized the 
soldier lad who had helped her down the foot-bridge 
that day at the Flume, and who had so kindly taken 
Jean to see the cascade. 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 271 

As Nathalie reached the children, she became em- 
barrassed, as she suddenly realized that she did not 
know the name of the young soldier. But her em- 
barrassment was momentary, as Nita called out mer- 
rily, Hello, Van. Is that what you are doing, mak- 
ing love to the kiddies ? I thought you were going to 
play golf.^' 

“ That was my intention,” replied the boy, straight- 
ening up and lifting his hat, and then his dark blue 
eyes brightened quickly, as he perceived Nita’s com- 
panion. 

Nathalie was now introduced to Mr. Van Darrell, 
the son of a friend of Nita’s mother, and then the 
little group were chatting merrily as they waited for 
Dr. Gilmour, and Mrs. Van Vorst, who had gone to 
order the car to take them to the foot of the Trail that 
led to the top of Garnet Mountain. 

All at once young Darrell turned towards Nathalie 
as he said, “ But, Miss Page, have we not met before? 
Were you not one of the girls at Camp Mills one day 
last month, who asked a party of us if we did not 
want some cherries ? And then, if I remember rightly, 
we all helped you to gather up the fruit after you had 
knocked the basket from the car.” 

Oh, yes, I remember you,” dimpled Nathalie. 

No, not when I met you that day at the Flume, al- 
though your face haunted me as being familiar, but it 
all came to me on the ride home.” 


272 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


But I knew you right away,” said the boy half 
shyly, ‘‘ although I did not like to make myself known, 
for, of course, I did not even know your name.” 

“ Or I yours,” laughed Nathalie. And then, with 
her mind filled with thoughts of the young English 
soldier, she told his story to Mr. Darrell, who imme- 
diately became so interested in Tommy Atkins, as he 
called him, that he begged Nathalie to let him go with 
her, quite assured, he declared, that he could be of 
some assistance to him. 

Before the girl could reply a new voice suddenly 
shrilled, ‘‘Oh, Nathalie, how do you do? Did you 
come up here to call on us? ” 

The girl, thus addressed, stared with some bewilder- 
ment, to see her two New York schoolmates hurrying 
towards her. They looked very fetching in their mod- 
ish golf-costumes, with their bags slung carelessly over 
their shoulders, as each one seized her hand and shook 
it cordially, while smiling down upon her in a most 
friendly and chummy way. 

For a full second the girl simply stared, dazed and 
confused, as it suddenly flashed into her consciousness 
that the last time she had met these girls they had 
snubbed her, deliberately turning their backs upon 
her, when she greeted them, the day she had come to 
the hotel to leave the sweet peas. Ah, a sudden red 
leaped into Nathalie’s cheeks, her eyes flamed angrily, 
and she was about to return their snub by turning her 


THE CABIN ON THE MOUNTAIN 273 

back upon them, for she had intuitively divined that 
they were nice to her because they wanted to be intro- 
duced to her friends. Yes, they wanted to know the 
soldier-boy. 

But something deep within the girl, her finer nature, 
whispered, ‘‘ Never mind, ignore their slight, and show 
that you are above them by acting the lady.” With 
simple dignity the girl coolly returned their effusive 
greeting, and then, with cold formality, introduced 
them to her two friends. Oh, how delighted they 
were to meet Miss Van Vorst; they had heard all 
about her from a friend of hers, — Nita never was 
able to discover this friend. Then, turning from Nita 
as quickly as possible, they made an onslaught upon the 
soldier lad. Oh, how pleased they were to meet him ; 
they had been just wild to know him ever since they 
had sighted his uniform. Was he a New York guards- 
man ? What regiment did he belong to ? These, and 
a score of similar questions were quickly hurled at the 
young man, somewhat to his embarrassment. Na- 
thalie could not hear all they said as she chattered with 
Nita, but vaguely realized, as they rattled on, with an 
angry flutter of her heart, that they were again ignor- 
ing her, as she heard them urging Mr. Darrell to join 
them at a game of golf. 

But a few moments later, when Nita waved a 
good-by to her mother from the car, she was seated 
between the soldier lad and Nathalie, with the children 


274 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


crowding upon their laps, and the doctor in front with 
the chauffeur. 

As the car whizzed away from the hotel Nita gave 
Nathalie’s sleeve a sudden twitch as she cried, “ Oh, 
look, Nathalie; there’s the Count! '' 

“ The Count/' repeated her friend in mystified won- 
der, as she bent forward to gaze after a young man 
who had just flashed by in an automobile. But sud- 
denly, with a curious gleam in her eyes, the girl drew 
back, a slight flush on her cheeks. 

“ Oh, no, he’s not a real Count," informed Nita with 
some amusement in her eyes ; “ but every one calls him 
that because they think he’s so Frenchy-looking, with 
his dark skin and big black eyes. The girls seem quite 
wild about him, for he takes them riding in his car. 
Some one told mother that he was from Chicago, and 
was quite wealthy.” 

But Nathalie manifested no further interest in the 
gentleman whom Nita had dubbed the Count, although 
she immediately recognized the young man as the one 
who had repaired her car the day she had gone after 
the children. But, alas, she felt that he was no gentle- 
man, for had he not stared at her rudely in the post- 
office, and then accosted her near the cemetery a short 
time later? 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 

A fter Nita’s arrival the two Pioneer-Liberty 
girls were so occupied with things to see and 
do, that at the week’s end it was hard to realize 
it was not a month since her coming. 

In the order of events had been the anxious mo- 
ments waiting to know the doctor’s decision as to the 
condition of the young English soldier. This had 
been followed by Nathalie’s deep joy when she re- 
alized that her “ drop in the bucket ” was doing its bit. 
Yes, the doctor announced that the young man’s con- 
dition was serious, induced by his gangrenous wound 
and the life he had lived for the last two years. Still, 
as he had a good constitution, and youth is a ready up- 
builder, with proper care and food, — emphasizing the 
word food,” — he would be all right in a short time. 
Yes, Janet had sensed the situation when she had pro- 
claimed that she believed the man was more than half 
starved. 

Under the care of the skillful surgeon, with Janet’s 
good nursing, assisted by Nathalie and Nita, who had 
275 


276 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


begged hard to be allowed to help, the patient soon be- 
gan to improve. Possibly the atmosphere created by 
having three young nurses, the soldier-boy as orderly, 
Danny as handy man, with the other children as serv- 
itors, with nourishing food, had done as much as medi- 
cine and skill in giving renewed ambition to a man who 
had been dragging out his life on half-rations, in the 
solitude of a friendless existence. 

The most important aid to the convalescent’s recov- 
ery, undoubtedly, was the thought of being able to 
refill an empty pocketbook, for Mrs. Van Vorst, as 
soon as she learned that he was a proficient French 
scholar, — he had lived in France, his mother being a 
French woman, — and was graduated from Oxford, 
had immediately made the suggestion that he give Nita 
French lessons. With her usual tact the suggestion 
had been so delicately made, pleading it as a personal 
favor to her, so as not to offend the fine sensibilities 
of the young man, that it had been soon arranged. 

The young soldier’s peculiar situation had been 
noised about, and general interest and sympathy being 
awakened, many of the guests from the near-by hotels 
had climbed the mountain trails, with offerings of 
fruit or some delicacy for the invalid. 

When the fact became known that Nita was to take 
French lessons from him, other young ladies at the 
hotels were eager to .be his pupils, among them Na- 
thalie’s two New York schoolmates, who ardently 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 277 

sounded the praises of the handsome English sol- 
dier, whose refined scholarly face, tall, athletic figure, 
his romantic story, bade fair to make him a pos- 
sible rival of the Count, who was considered the most 
eligible parti at the hotel. But the fact that the young 
man up in the cabin had played a soldier’s part in the 
present war, was an asset that carried more weight 
than mere wealth, in the minds of the ladies, particu- 
larly when it was fashionable to be patriotic. 

Possibly Nathalie’s two friends seized upon this op- 
portunity to make themselves one of a very happy party 
of young people, who somehow managed to have a 
most enjoyable time in ministering to their charge. As 
soon as the sick man was able, he was made comfort- 
able in a hammock under the trees, on a clearing near 
the cabin, where each one vied with the other to cheer 
him. 

Sometimes there would be a reading, then again just 
a merry chat, but as the meetings gained in numbers, 
stories became the vogue, the story-teller generally 
relating some tale about the mountains, or an Indian 
legend, while the listeners sat and knitted for the sol- 
diers, as even Sheila and the boys, — all but poor Jean, 
— had become expert knitters, under Nathalie’s tute- 
lage. As the patient had brightened so perceptibly at 
these little mountain-top gatherings, Nathalie had 
dubbed them Liberty Cheers. 

When Blue Robin saw that her two schoolmates had 


278 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


foisted themselves upon the party, she felt indignantly 
grieved, as the snub they had administered to her still 
rankled. She had been on the point of revealing the 
incident to Nita, in one of their little confidential chats, 
when that young lady had remained at Seven Pillars 
over night, as she loved to do. But second thoughts 
stayed her, as she knew her friend’s loyal devotion to 
her, and her vehement way of disposing of people when 
they displeased her, the result of her spoiled childhood. 
Nathalie, also, was afraid to offend the two girls, for 
fear they would not continue to take lessons of Philip 
de Brie, and she knew that would mean a loss to him. 

Van Darrell, the Camp Mills soldier, and Philip had 
fraternized as “ mates ” ; for the latter, by his life on 
the battlefield, and in the trenches, and with his experi- 
ences in a German prison-camp, had a stock of infor- 
mation at his command that Van was greedy to devour. 
With the wholehearted patriotic enthusiasm of our 
young American boys when called to the colors, he was 
keen to be on the “ firing-line,” so as to get a chance, 
as he expressed it, ‘‘ to get a few jabs at the Big Willie 
gang.” 

Philip’s deep appreciation of Nathalie’s kindness to 
him, and also that of her friends, was not only ex- 
pressed in words, but by the warm, eloquent glances of 
his dark eyes. His deferential courtesy to all, his 
chivalrous manner towards her and Janet, and his 
kindly, winning way of making friends with the chil- 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 


279 


dren, had won the girl’s admiration. Nevertheless she 
had noticed that it was Janet who had won his deepest 
regard. It was to her that he turned with questioning 
eyes when anything of moment came up, on her that his 
admiring, ardent glances fell when that young lady ap- 
peared in some simple, but fluffy, bewitching little cos- 
tume, which she had taken to doing lately, somewhat 
to Nathalie’s surprise. 

When he grew tired and showed a restlessness, a de- 
sire to be free of the merry-makers, a pleased look 
would dawn in his eyes when they left him to the minis- 
trations of the head nurse. The somber shadows in 
his eyes would light with a strange glow as she hovered 
about him, trying to make him comfortable, or giving 
him the medicine that he probably would have for- 
gotten if she had not been there to give it to him. 

And Janet? Well, she had been, as it were, curi- 
ously transformed into a new creature, seemingly, by 
the sweet pity in her soft eyes, and the flush on her 
winsome face, as, with tireless patience and quiet dili- 
gence, she performed her duties. Evidently, for the 
nonce, her vocation of mingled pacifist, farmerette, and 
suffragette had been relegated to the past. 

Oh, no, the girls did not spend all their time with 
Philip, for, as this was Nita’s first visit to the White 
Hills, there were many things to see. One of the first 
places she had been taken by her friend was to the 
Sweet Pea Tea-House, to meet the invalid and the 


28 o 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


deaf-and-dumb lady. She was not only charmed with 
their garden of gardens, but enthusiastic in her warm 
admiration of the charms of its owners. And it was 
not long before she was alternating with Nathalie in 
reading to Miss Whipple, for Nathalie had managed, 
with her many duties and joys, to keep up the readings 
to the shut-in. 

Mrs. Carney, of the little red house, also received a 
call, and the young girl had come away curiously im- 
pressed with the oddities of the queer little old lady, 
whose small black figure, with her basket of yarn for 
knitting, always in that funny poke-bonnet, was a 
familiar sight on the road. 

Janet, Nita declared, was “ just lovely,” and that this 
admiration was reciprocated was evidenced by Janet 
taking her down to her farm, although sadly neglected 
at present. Here Nita not only did her share of weed- 
ing, but returned with such glowing accounts of the 
farm’s luxuriance, expatiating so glowingly upon its 
fertility, and what wonders Janet had been able to 
accomplish so late in the season, that Nathalie forebore 
poking fun at it, as she generally did. 

Nita had gazed at the mystery room with a keen 
desire to peep within, had read Nathalie’s diary of each 
day’s doings, and had prowled all over the house, in- 
tent on selecting what she thought was the most valu- 
able thing for Nathalie to select, as she, too, was 
anxious that she should “ win the prize,” as the children 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 


281 


called it. She had even visited Cynthia in her sanctum 
sanctorum, to Nathalie’s astonishment, the artist ap- 
parently having taken a great fancy to the hunchback 
girl, being particularly cordial to her, and returning 
Mrs. Van Vorst’s call, to the amazement of Mrs. Page, 
before that lady had had a chance to do so. 

But the reason therefor was apparently explained, 
when it became known that she had suggested to Mrs. 
Van Vorst that she allow her to paint Nita’s portrait, 
insisting that her golden hair and violet eyes would 
show up beautifully on a canvas. Nathalie was still 
more surprised when that kind-hearted lady, whose in- 
come was amply sufficient to allow her to indulge in 
many whims, consented, and Cynthia was in a glorified 
state at the success of her plan. 

Liberty Fort Fad proved a good inspirer of patriot- 
ism, as Nita not only became, for the time, a most 
valiant Son of Liberty, entering with great zest into 
the children’s sham battles on the meadow below, but 
she introduced an element of war that was hailed with 
delight. This was a battery gun, which she contrived 
to make, with the help of Jean, out of an old lead pipe 
found in the cellar, and which was placed on wheels, 
the remains of an old hayrack, and installed at the top 
of the terrace in front of the fort. 

She had also helped the boys to make wooden swords 
out of sticks, and also hand-grenades of thick paper 
filled with gravel, which would have had a most disas- 


282 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

trous effect upon the enemy if the latter had not been 
imaginary. 

It was here one afternoon, as the boys were having 
a battle with all the horrors of war, that young Darrell 
appeared, and as he and the two girls sat on the stone 
ledge, he told them how he was “ all in ” by having had 
a boxing-match with a prisoner when on police duty. 

“ The chap was a foreigner,” he explained. He 
could only speak a little English, and I had heard him 
mutter to himself several times in rather a queer way. 
Suddenly, when I was off my guard, he let his club fly 
at me and gave me a whack on the head that knocked 
me silly. I saw stars for a moment, and then I let out 
on the chap, — he was a big fellow, as strong as an ox, 
— and was just about to use my automatic when the 
Military Police rushed up and in a few moments they 
had him as tight as a drum. It turned out that he 
was off his nut, and I believe he is now in some asylum. 
Anyway he put me in the hospital with a cracked skull 
for a while, and then I was granted a furlough, and 
came up here with mother.” 

The girls, under the spell of the military, were in- 
clined to make a hero of the soldier-boy, with the long- 
lashed, merry blue eyes and cheery laugh, in their 
minds at least, if not openly. Later, when he was sit- 
ting alone with Nathalie, in a burst of confidence, with 
sudden gravity, he lamented that he feared that he 
would never reach the firing-line ” overseas. When 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 


283 


Nathalie expressed her surprise at his fears, he ex- 
plained that he had been detailed to sanitary work in 
the hospital, and then he added, with gloom-shadowed 
eyes, “ And it looks to me as if it would be steady 
company; but it is up to Uncle Sam, and a soldier is 
no soldier if he kicks at his job.” 

“ Oh, I just wish I were a man, so I could go over 
there,” sighed Nathalie a little dolefully. “ Sometimes 
I wish I had a million lives so I could give them to my 
country, and go over and fight.” 

Ho ! ho ! Blue Robin ! You have changed your 
mind then, haven’t you? ” good-naturedly jeered Nita, 
who had just come up behind them. Her blue eyes 
gleamed mischief as she continued laughingly, Surely 
that was not the way you felt a short while ago.” 

“ No, that is true,” replied Nathalie with reddened 
cheeks, “ but I was selfish then, and failed to read the 
handwriting on the wall.” 

As Nathalie looked up in a shamefaced way at 
the young soldier she saw a strange expression flit 
across his face as he gazed down at her. 

'' Did you call Miss Page Blue Robin ? ” he asked 
hurriedly of Nita, with a sudden, strange interest. 

Oh, that is just a nickname,” began Nathalie, 
and — ” 

‘‘ No, it isn’t a nickname,” returned Nita, with a 
defiant toss of her head. “ It is just your own partic- 
ular name. Shall I tell Mr. Darrell how you came by 


284 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


it?” And then, without waiting for permission, she 
told their companion the story of how Nathalie found 
the nest of bluebirds in the old cedar tree and thought 
they were blue robins. And when the Girl Pioneers 
claimed that she must become one of them, she had 
to join the Bluebird group. “ Because, you see, she 
was a real bluebird,” ended the girl. 

It was then that Nathalie, who hated to be the sub- 
ject of a conversation, began to tell the young soldier 
of her many trials in training her boys in military tac- 
tics. To her joy he offered to give them a lesson, 
whereupon the young Sons of Liberty were lined up, 
Nita and Sheila with them, and drilled in a simple man- 
ual-of-arms, — how to stand as a sentinel on post, how 
to salute an officer or civilian, and how to stand at at- 
tention when the national anthem, the “ Call to the 
Colors,” or “ To the Standard,” were played, and 
when the flag went by. 

There was a drill in calisthenics, and then the young 
military instructor explained to his youthful audience 
the necessity for a Son of Liberty — he had caught the 
phrase from Nathalie — to have clean hands, face, 
teeth, and finger-nails. ‘‘ No boy or young man,” he 
emphasized, ‘‘ will ever make a good soldier who will 
not discipline himself in these small things. It is also 
essential for a soldier not only to be clean, but to be 
courteous, helpful, and kind, especially to the aged and 
weak.” 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 


285 


The drill was conducted in such a masterful, soldier- 
like way, and the little talk made significant by so many 
points that Nathalie was laboring to teach her boys, 
that the girls were greatly impressed, and also the chil- 
dren, if one were to judge by their alert attention and 
the worshipful glances they cast upon the young sol- 
dier as they went through their war maneuvers. 

Nathalie and the boys were anxious to show Nita 
their mountain walks, and so, with young Darrell, they 
spent many an afternoon, from glen and vale, in study- 
ing the mountains, with their rugged crests and beau- 
tiful cloud-effects. Their ever-changing beauty, their 
gigantic immensity, their awe-inspiring silences lifted 
the newcomers to a reverent calm, as they gazed at 
these everlasting memorials to the omnipotency of the 
Creator. 

Sometimes the little party would walk four or five 
miles, something that the little hunchback had never 
been able to do until she became a Pioneer. The visit 
to the Flume was not only repeated, but they visited 
the^^Lpj^River. The weird mystery of the silver 
stream, ^ it gleamed luringly between massive gray 
bowlders, tempted them down the little ladder, to slide 
over rocky ledges, and climb stony declivities, until at 
last they were standing beneath the rocks in Shadow 
Cave. The Giant’s Pot Hole, with the shiny water 
peering at them from between the stone walls, so sug- 
gestive of giants and strange dragons, with its weird, 


286 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


mystical stream, made the underground trip to Mother 
Nature’s caverns a revelation and a delight to all of 
the party. 

They ascended Mount Agassiz at Bethlehem, where 
they tried to signal to Philip and Janet on the top of 
Garnet, through the sun’s rays shining on a mirror, but 
although this method of signaling was greatly enjoyed, 
it was not very successful. With all of the merry 
times, however, the young invalid on the mountain was 
not forgotten, although he and Janet — with Mrs. 
Page for company sometimes — passed many hours 
in each other’s company. 

Then came a cool, sunny afternoon in August, when 
they all gathered around a trench camp-fire on the top 
of Garnet, for Philip had convalesced sufficiently to do 
a little climbing, and had a luncheon in the woods. 
And it was the two young soldiers who boiled the po- 
tatoes in a pot that hung from a green pole, fastened in 
crotches on two upright saplings over the fire-pit, from 
which a trench a foot deep branched out on each of its 
four sides. This new kind of fire, as Sheila called it, 
was a real soldier’s fire, for it was where Philip had 
cooked his meals before he was visited by Nathalie and 
Janet, his good angels, as he called them. 

With keen satisfaction the children watched Philip 
toast the sweet, nutty bacon for his guests, while Van 
showed the girls his way of making flapjacks, as he 


THE LIBERTY CHEER 287 

tossed them so high in the air that a shrill, “ Oh, you’ll 
lose it ! ’’ almost unnerved the would-be cook. 

But no such dire catastrophe happened, and soon 
they were all enjoying the brown cakes spread with 
maple sugar, and war-bread sandwiched with bacon be- 
tween. After the edibles had been disposed of and 
the fire was banked, as Philip called it, for a later meal, 
Danny and Tony made a Pioneer Camp-fire, and 
around its glowing embers — for the wind was keen 
that cool August day up there on those craggy heights 
— they held a Liberty Cheer. 

As they were about to cast lots as to who should tell 
the first story. Van, who never tired of listening to 
Philip’s experiences, begged him to tell the girls some- 
thing of his life as a soldier fighting in France. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE WHITE COMRADE 

P hilip, who sat leaning against a tree, with his 
arm around Jean, softly stroked the lad’s dark 
head. Somehow he had shown more than the 
usual interest in the little refugee, undoubtedly drawn 
to him in recognition of the fact that he was also a vic- 
tim of German barbarity, and because they both spoke 
the same language. Nathalie, with a thrill of joy, had 
noticed his tender, protecting watchfulness over the 
boy, and how Jean’s big eyes would gaze up at the 
young man with a gleam in their depths like that of 
some adoring dog, who yearns for the hand of his 
master in silent caress! 

“ There is not much to tell,” returned Philip after a 
pause, with the hesitancy of one who dislikes to talk 
about himself, for you must know I am no hero.” 
He smiled at the girlish faces so eagerly watching him. 
Suddenly he sat bolt upright, unconsciously pushing 
Jean from him. “ I am an American,” he exclaimed 
abruptly, “ for my father came of good old New Eng- 
land stock, although I was born in the South. But my 
heart has been strangely stirred since I came over here, 
for the Americans are asleep, — they do not sense what 
288 


“THE WHITE COMRADE” 


289 


they are up against in this war of the nations.” His 
dark gray eyes flashed into flame. “ Sometimes I feel 
I would like to be another Paul Revere, and ride like 
the wind, knocking on doors and windows, shouting to 
the slumberers, ‘The Huns are coming!’ They 
must be roused to the truth that this war is their war, 
and that they have not buckled to their job.” 

He paused a moment, the fire dying out of his eyes 
as he continued, “ I was feeling in unusually good 
spirits that summer of 1914, for I had just formed a 
partnership with a well-known architect, and business 
gave assurance of giving me a very comfortable in- 
come, and place me in a position to repay my mother, 
who had denied herself in order to put me through 
college. 

“ Into this mood of complacent satisfaction with 
myself and world in general, came a jar one day in 
June when the newspapers announced, in glaring head- 
lines, the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. 
And, almost before we had digested its portent, came 
Austria’s ultimatum to little Serbia. People began to 
grow restive, alarm-fired, keyed to a tense state of ex- 
pectancy that something was in the air, but — what? 
Then tongues were loosened and eyes flashed fire as 
the Prime Minister’s scathing denunciation of Ger- 
many’s ‘ infamous proposal ’ was bandied from mouth 
to mouth, followed by Great Britain’s ultimatum that 
Belgium’s neutrality must be respected. 


290 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

Then came hours of anxious suspense, a harrowing 
waiting-time, with every one’s heart aquiver, while a 
little group of men in Downing Street held their 
watches in their hands as they awaited Germany’s re- 
ply. It came. The deep-toned clang of Big Ben told 
to English hearts that the world’s decades of peace had 
been shattered, and that the Prussian barbarians had 
struck their first blow at civilization. 

From every corner and window now glared forth, 
‘ Your King and your Country need you.’ Those 
words seared my heart like fire, but no, I argued, I 
must make good with mother. But no matter how I 
tried to cajole myself, the words seemed to follow me 
around like an accusing finger. No, he wasn’t my 
king. I was an American by right of birth, but still 
they blazoned at me until I could see them with my eyes 
shut. They starred the darkness of night ; why, even 
in my sleep they clutched me in a ghostly dream. The 
next day and for many days I saw them aflame on the 
pavement, they were written on the sky in white letters, 
but still I fought. 

‘‘ When England’s young manhood sprang, as it 
were, from the earth, armed to the teeth, and marched 
shoulder to shoulder in regular beat, — it seemed like 
the pulsation of my own heart — as they swung along 
through the streets of London, my head swam, my 
throat tightened, and — But when I read of heroic 
little Belgium so nobly holding out against the ruth- 


“THE WHITE COMRADE” 291 

less destroyer of justice and honor, I gave in and be- 
came one of Kitchener’s mob. 

Those were not pleasant hours,” continued Philip, 
“ waiting at the Horse Guard Parade to read when I 
must report at the regimental depot at Hounslow, for I 
felt I was a misfit, in with a lot of men that, to my 
inexperienced eyes, seemed the scum of England, 
and I sickened of my job. 

‘‘ But when the news continued to pour in that 
Liege had fallen, that the Germans had entered Brus- 
sels, that the British Expeditionary Forces were re- 
treating, heroically fighting, that Namur, Louvain, and 
other towns were being ruthlessly seized and devastated 
by the enemy, and their hellish atrocities began to be 
rumored about, the past, together with all hopes and 
desires for the future, were wiped out as clean as a 
slate in a spirit of forgetfulness. I lived in the mo- 
ment, buoyed by the grim determination to fight like 
hell to down the oppressor of men’s rights, to lose my 
life if need be, in order to give freedom to those who 
were to come after. 

“ My spirits took a leap when I registered at the 
Hounslow Barracks as a Royal Fusileer, although I 
grinned humorously, for if I had felt like a misfit in 
London I was a guy now, appareled like a bloomin’ 
lay-figure in the cast-ofiF rags of some old-clothes shop, 
and had sensed that I was only a steel rivet in a big 
machine. I was no duck either, taking to the drills 


292 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


like water, for I would stand hopelessly bewildered at 
the sharp orders, 'Form fours! One-one-two! Pla- 
toon ! Form Fours ! ’ and similar commands, that 
were like kicks on a befuddled brain. But I gritted my 
teeth and stuck to my guns. 

" As soon as my rawness wore off and I began to 
get the hang of it, the martial spirit asserted itself. I 
began to be obsessed by the desire to show that I was 
the right stuff, that the heroism of my American ances- 
tors, the spirit of ’76, was in me. Through all my in- 
tensive training I was feverishly eager to know every 
detail of company and battalion drill, musketry and tar- 
get-practice, and all the daily grind of the other sundry 
factors in military discipline. 

" When I began to ‘ matey ’ my comrades, I soon un- 
derstood why a Tommy Atkins is not like an American, 
who is born with a fine sense of personal independence, 
and who feels that he is as good as any Lord or Duke ; 
or like a volatile Frenchman, with his easy grace of 
manner and buoyant spirit. I realized that although 
there may be a ' Sentimental Tommy ’ here and there, 
the average Tommy Atkins is a stolid chap, humdrum 
and prosaic, but with as kind a heart as any rookie in 
the world. 

“ As spring came along, after months of soldiering 
in many different quarters, which meant roughing it in 
leaky tents where cold, rain, and mud played a large 
part, and poor equipment a larger, we were no longer 


“THE WHITE COMRADE” 


293 


raw rookies, parading or drilling before an unadmiring 
public, — a target for pretty girls’ laughter, or the ire of 
a berating sergeant, — for our battalion had acquired a 
high degree of efficiency. 

“ Our arms were one with us, we had done with 
squad, platoon formation, and company drills, had 
shown our metal at the rifle-range at Aldershot, taken 
part in field maneuvers, bayonet charges, and mimic 
battles. We had become experts at trench-digging, 
bomb-throwing, and sniping, while the machine-gun- 
ners were quite up to the mark in that important 
weapon ; in fact, we had become familiar with all 
branches of the army service. 

“ Then when every man was ‘ in the pink ’ the 
marching orders came, and we assembled on the bar- 
rack-square at Aldershot. Not only were we phys- 
ically fit, fine specimens of the trained soldier, but we 
were completely equipped, even to the identification 
tag, which registered your name, regimental number, 
regiment, and religion ; besides, we carried the first-aid 
field dressing, — an antiseptic gauze pad and bandage, 
and a small bottle of iodine. Also, each soldier car- 
ried a copy of Lord Kitchener’s letter, as to what was 
expected of every British soldier. The words ‘ Do 
your duty bravely. Fear God. Honor your King,’ 
meant much to me, although I was an American. 

“ And then we were off, merry and blithe, no matter 
what our hearts registered, cheering like fiends when 


294 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


some of the boys in khaki chalked the gun-carriages 
* at Berlin/ a new challenge to each Tommy to do his 
stunt in making the Huns pay. Then came a drifting 
period when we were herded like cattle from one train 
to another, or made long, weary marches in the blind, — 
for nobody seemed to know our destination. But at 
last we were in the shadow of the great battle, down in 
the earth, in one sector of a long line of a serpentine 
trench, zigzagging from the sea to the Alps. 

“ This burrowing underground like a mole, digging 
trenches, or holes, in No Man’s Land, to string up 
barbed wire entanglements, or to pile sand-bags on the 
parapet, or to clean out the wreckage of a trench that 
had been battered by German gunners, or a trench- 
mortar — sometimes to gather up the pieces of some 
‘ matey ’ whom you had chummed with, — all meant 
new activities. They were experiences and sounds — 
the sounds of hell — and sights that cut deep, with an 
impelling remembrance haunting you like grewsome 
shadows. 

‘‘ Yes, it was a strange new life,” the young soldier 
paused musingly, “ for this kind of fighting is no battle- 
field with glittering helmets and bayonets, the furling 
of colors, the prancing of horses, the roll of gun-car- 
riages, but stinging eyelids and a choking in thick gray 
smoke, with the roar of cannonading, the sharp screech 
of shrapnel, the bursting of star-shells, or the whir of 
strange, queer monsters above your head. 


“ THE WHITE COMRADE ” 295 

“ There was the turning of night into day,” — 
Philip’s face had a weary expression, — “ the daily men- 
tal strain, the danger constantly facing you, the learn- 
ing to know the sounds of the different shells and in 
what direction they were going to fall. Involuntarily, 
with stilled breath, you waited, and then came the 
sinking of your heart when you sensed that it was your 
twrn now, and then to find yourself still there, but to 
realize that some of your mates had ‘gone West.’ 

“ And the gas. Oh, the horror of the great, green- 
ish balls that came rolling towards you, close to the 
earth, the celerity of getting into your gas-masks, and 
the horrible thing that a comrade became if he failed to 
accomplish this job on time, and lay writhing in an 
ugly, venomous atmosphere of green. 

“ Then there were the cooties, the parasites that feed 
on you, and with whom you maintain a constant war- 
fare,” Philip smiled as he saw the girls squirm; “ and 
the rats, as big as cats, with sharp, ferret-like eyes, 
darting from some dark crevice, or playing leap-frog 
over your legs at night, or mistaking your head for 
their nest. Ugh! But the dead-and-gone feeling — 
exhausted nature asserting her rights — which assailed 
you at some critical moment, perhaps when you were 
trying to be a man at your job, just got you through 
and through. 

“ Ah, there was the first ‘ over-the-top ’ experience, 
when you stood on the fire-step with gun in hand, pale- 


296 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


faced, but with clenched teeth, in an oppressive silence, 
waiting to hear the command come down the line, — 
whispered from mouth to mouth. Then you leaped 
wildly over into long-anticipated perils, to become 
entangled in barbed wire, or perhaps to get your first 
shock, as the man next you dropped like lead at the first 
‘ ptt ’ of a German sharpshooter's bullet. 

“ But on you rush in a mad frenzy with red-misted 
eyes, in the face of a heavy artillery fire and a pitiless 
gale of shrapnel, through a dense smoke-screen, split 
with lurid flashes of flame, over a ground pitted with 
shell-holes — to stumble over some dead Tommy, 
whose glazed eyes stare up at you as if in mockery of 
your determination to play the man in this crusade for 
humanity. 

“ Then my adventure came, — a raid on a German 
trench, an undertaking attended with great peril. 
With blackened faces, each man, with his bag of bombs 
and automatic, at the flicker of a white light crawled 
stealthily into the sable blackness of ‘ dead man’s yard,’ 
and, in a downpour of drenching rain, crept on hands 
and knees, sometimes wiggling on his stomach, — 
quickly rolling into a shell-hole if a sound was heard, — 
until the German trench loomed menacingly only a few 
feet beyond. 

“ Everything was deadly still. Then the signal 
came, and with a rush we clambered stealthily up and 
peeped over, to see a yellow-haired Heinie asleep in the 


“ THE WHITE COMRADE 


297 


little alcove back of his gun-emplacement, the head of 
the sentry-on-post tipsily nodding on his chest, and two 
big fellows snoring like porpoises on the floor near. 
In just one minute we had slid into that trench and had 
our men with hands up. Sure it was a surprise-party 
for Fritz, for the Germans came running out of their 
dug-outs, wrapped in blankets, noisily demanding to 
know what was up. They soon knew, and then came a 
riot of a time as we let our hand-grenades fly, and our 
bayonets too, aided by a lively fire from our machine- 
guns. And then we were out, making a quick run for 
our own trenches with our trophies, and several of the 
surprised ones, with the German guns thundering in 
our rear. 

“ Yes, I had captured my first Hun, and mighty 
proud I was of my achievement, and pictured my de- 
light-to-be when retailing my adventure to my com- 
rades, when Zipp ! and I was downed by the pieces of a 
bursting shell that got me in the hand and foot. And 
the prisoner? Oh, the dirty Boche saw his chance. I 
saw his hand go up, — he must have had a stiletto hid- 
den somewhere, — but I was too quick for him, for I 
let fly a hand-grenade, and — well, he bothered me no 
more. 

“ For hours I crawled, or wiggled, along, dropping 
into a chalk-pit or a shell-hole every few moments, for 
it was like hell under that liquid fire, Fritzie’s aerial 
bombs and the machine-gun fire; in fact, it seemed as 


298 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


if every kind of projectile had been let loose, for now 
the Germans were mad clean through. Finally, being 
too exhausted to make any further headway, I crept 
into a shell-hole, where 1 lay for a day and a night, 
lying on my face most of the time, playing dead, for the 
German fiends would sneak out into No Man’s Land 
at night after a bombardment, and kill every wounded 
enemy soldier they could find. 

“ What did 1 think about, you ask. Miss Nathalie, 
while lying in that shell-hole ? ” Philip smiled a little 
sadly. Well, at first I was crazed with thirst and 
hunger, and the cold — oh, it was something fierce. 
And then the doubts and misgivings that had assailed 
me at times, as to whether there was a God in heaven, 
returned with renewed force. I dumbly felt that my 
faith was leaving me, for why this useless slaughter of 
men’s bodies, this agonizing devil’s gas, this torturing 
of the aged and weak, this violating of womanhood, 
this maiming of little, innocent children? Ah, the 
agony of body was nothing compared to the agony of 
my soul, as I lay in that hole. 

Then that night — there was no moon, and every- 
thing was a dead calm, for a lull had come in fighting 
— I turned over, face upward, to ease the aching that 
racked my body. As I lie gazing up at the stars, — 
they seemed unusually bright, — something white sud- 
denly flashed before me, and then I saw a face bend 
down and gaze at me. It was a marvelously beauti- 


THE WHITE COMRADE ’’ 


299 


ful face, with such calm serenity of expression as the 
eyes smiled into mine, that a strange peace came into 
my soul, my pains were eased, I was filled with a won- 
derful joy, and — then I knew ; — it was the face of 
the Great White Comrade, — the face of Christ! 

“ It may have been a delusion from overwrought 
nerves, — I may have been dreaming, — I don’t know, 
for there had been great talk among the soldiers of see- 
ing the white apparition of Christ on the battlefield. 
He was said to have appeared to the soldiers, showed 
them His bleeding side and hands, and then the suffer- 
ing ones had felt a wonderful peace come into their 
souls, and their very agonies had made them tri- 
umphant in the thought that as He had died to make 
men holy, so He had given them the great privilege of 
suffering and dying to make men free. No, I didn’t 
see any bleeding side, or the nail-prints on the hands, 
but I saw Christ’s face, and, oh, it was Heaven ! 

“ Then my brain cleared. I realized that I had been 
groping in a great darkness, but that a wonderful light 
had come, and I knew God was in His Heaven. That 
smile had brought revelation. It had told me that we 
were no better than Christ, and He had suffered, — He, 
an innocent soul. And as He had agonized on the 
cross, and God had suffered with Him, so every moan, 
sob, and cry had reached His ears in this great wail 
from humanity. It told me that this bruising of 
bodies, this rending of women’s hearts, this wringing 


300 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


of men's souls, had wrung His heart with a suffering 
greater than men could know. 

“ It told me that it was all the working-out of God's 
great plan for the good of mankind. It told me that 
the men, women, and children, who had passed through 
these seas of blood were to come forth with white gar- 
ments, to be a great host led by the Angel of His Pres- 
ence, and that their deeds were to live after them, to 
bring light into the dark places in men’s souls. It told 
me that these blood-soaked battlefields were to become 
gardens, where flowers would spring, the glorious flow- 
ers of freedom, and that every tear shed was to become 
great waters, to flow like a river of peace to all na- 
tions." 

As Philip ceased speaking, the faces of his young 
listeners became very grave, and for a moment there 
was an impressive stillness, as if each one had been 
hushed to a reverent silence. Well, after that, I was 
strangely happy," continued the young man slowly. 
“ I think I must have fallen asleep, for I was suddenly 
aroused by the cold snout of a dog nosing into my face. 
He was a little beast, not much bigger than Tige here," 
softly stroking the refugee’s yellow dog as he spoke, at 
which Jean's eyes grew soft and bright, for with the lad 
it was “ Love me, love my dog." 

Yes, it was a Red Cross dog, whose beautiful eyes 
seemed almost human as they told me that help was 
near, and — " PJiilip stopped abruptly. He had had a 


“ THE WHITE COMRADE ” 


301 


weary, tired look for some time, but now a sudden pal- 
lor overspread his face, and Janet, who had been watch- 
ing him nervously, stepped quickly to his side, crying. 
And now you must stop talking, Mr. de Brie, for you 
are overdoing.” 

Philip smiled into her blue eyes, but waved her aside 
as he cried, sitting up with sudden resolution, “ But no, 
you must let me finish my story.” 

“ Oh, yes, do let him finish his story ! ” came a 
chorus of eager voices. 

But at this moment Nathalie, whose face had sud- 
denly brightened, cried, “ Oh, no ; let’s wait, for a big 
idea has suddenly come to me, and,” the girl’s eyes 
sparkled, if it turns out all right it will add to our 
enjoyment if we wait to hear Mr. de Brie’s story some 
other time.” 

“ A big idea,” cried Nita, all aquiver with curiosity. 
“ Oh, Nathalie, do tell us what it is! ” 

“ No, not now,” answered the girl. It will keep ; 
but in the meantime let us have a story from Mr. Dar- 
rell. You know he promised to tell us about Lovewell, 
the Ranger, and now is his chance, and we are not go- 
ing to let him off.” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE LIBERTY TEA 

A S Nathalie was ably seconded by the rest of the 
Liberty Cheerers, Van — he claimed he was a 
chump at story-telling — began the story of 
Lovewell, the Ranger, by saying that it was like one of 
the old Norse Sagas, for it had been told and retold by 
the mountaineer’s fireside for many generations. 

“ When the white settlers were being harassed in the 
early times by marauding bands from the neighboring 
tribe of Sokoki Indians,” said the young soldier, “ John 
Lovewell, a hardy ranger, set out from the Indian vil- 
lage of Pigswacket, now Fryeburg, near North Con- 
way, and made his way, with forty-five of his follow- 
ers, to Ossipee. Here they built a fort, and his scouts 
having found Indian tracks, they pushed farther on to 
a lake by whose shores they encamped for the night. 
The following morning, while trailing an Indian in the 
woods, Paugas, an Indian chieftain, whose name was 
a terror to every white settler on the frontier, stole up 
behind the rangers, to their encampment, which unfor- 
tunately they had left unguarded, and counted their 
packs. Finding that they were only thirty- four in 
302 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


303 

number, the Indians placed themselves in ambush in 
the woods near, and when the rangers returned it was 
to be surrounded by the redmen, while the air was 
filled with their deadly fire and hideous warwhoops. 

‘‘ Here, by this little lake, under the very shadow of 
Mount Kearsarge, fifty miles from any settlement, was 
fought one of the bloodiest battles in Indian warfare, 
as the loyal rangers fought for their lives. They fi- 
nally compelled the Indians to flee, but not before Love- 
well and many of his men had been killed. The sur- 
vivors made their way back to the fort at Ossipee, only 
to find it empty, for the guard, on hearing that Love- 
well and his band had been killed, had deserted it. 

‘‘ After many incredible hardships,” continued Van, 
“ twenty emaciated men finally reached the white settle- 
ment, many of them only to fall dead from wounds, or 
from hunger and exhaustion. But, practically. Love- 
well’s band had won a great victory, for Paugas had 
been killed, and the remainder of the tribe forsook their 
strongholds among the foothills, and the white settlers 
were molested no more.” 

Van also related how a ranger, the only remaining 
one of three brothers who had set forth with Love- 
well, when one of his brothers fell dead at his feet 
from the wounds inflicted by the savages, had started 
for their village, only to find his other brother’s body 
riddled with bullets. 

‘‘ Determined to be revenged, he pursued the Indians 


304 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


to the mountain fastnesses, where the defeated tribe, 
under the chief Chocorua, still lingered. He finally 
sighted the chieftain, who had ascended a high moun- 
tain to see if the white men had departed. As he 
started to descend he was confronted by the ranger, 
who, with his gun in hand, slowly forced the Indian 
back, step by step, until he stood on the verge of the 
precipice where he had been standing. As the chief- 
tain saw that his end had come, — as he had no alterna- 
tive between the precipitous cliff and the white man’s 
weapon, — with a cry of bitter defiance he leaped from 
the pinnacle, to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. 
Hence the name, Chocorua Mountain.” 

A mountain romance was now told by Janet, in the 
story of Nancy Stairs, a native of Jefferson, who had 
fallen in love, and become engaged to a farm-hand. 
On the eve of the wedding the girl’s lover disappeared, 
carrying with him a small sum of money, her dot. 
How Nancy set forth, to overtake him at a camp many 
miles away, walking at night through the dark woods, 
clambering over rocks and fording the Saco, finally to 
reach the place where he had encamped, to find it de- 
serted, aroused the sympathies of all. “ Finally,” con- 
tinued Janet, “ the girl sank exhausted on the banks of 
a brook, to be found some time later in the calm repose 
of a deathless sleep, almost buried under the snow, un- 
der a canopy of friendly evergreen that stretched above 
her. 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


305 


“ But Nancy had her revenge/’ smiled the story- 
teller, ‘‘ for when the farm-hand heard of her fate he 
lost his reason, and tradition tells us that, on the anni- 
versary of her death, the mountain-passes through 
which she pushed, in her weary pursuit of her lover, 
resound to his cries of grief.” 

Nita’s contribution to the Liberty Cheer was a little 
tale of an Indian maiden, who was so beautiful that no 
hunter was found worthy of her. Suddenly she dis- 
appeared, and was never seen again, until one day an 
Indian chief, on returning from the chase, told how he 
had seen her disporting in the limpid waters of the 
river Ellis, with a youth as peerless as she. When the 
bathers saw the chieftain they had immediately van- 
ished from sight, thus showing the girl’s parents that 
her companion must have been a mountain-spirit. 
From now on they would go into the wilds and call 
upon him for a moose, a deer, or whatever animal they 
chose, and lo! it would immediately appear, running 
towards them. 

Danny’s story was about some white settlers cap- 
tured by the Indians on their way to Canada. When 
they came to the banks of a beautiful stream, one of 
the captives, a mother with several children, from a 
babe in arms to a girl of sixteen, gathered her little 
ones about her in dumb despair. She had toiled 
through trackless forests, forded swollen streams, 
climbed rocky heights, slept on the cold, bare earth, and 


3o6 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


then, when she had refused to obey the commands of 
an Indian chieftain, from lack of strength, she had been 
goaded with blows, or the gory scalps of two of her 
children, which still hung from his belt, had been flour- 
ished menacingly before her eyes. 

As she stood on the banks of the river, feeling that 
her reason would forsake her from anguish, she sud- 
denly heard one of the Indians ask her oldest daughter 
to sing. The girl stood speechless with amazement, 
not knowing what to do for a moment, and then there 
floated out through the vast solitudes of these lonely 
mountains a curiously fresh young voice, as the girl 
chanted the sublime words of the psalmist in the plain- 
tive river-song. 

There was a slight pause, and then Danny’s voice, 
sweet and clear, to the accompaniment of the soft 
strains of Tony’s violin, was heard as he chanted: 

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yes, we wept, 
when we remembered Zion. 

“ We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. 

“ For there they that carried us away captive required of us a 
song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth.” 

Tony’s hands lovingly fingered his bow, and the 
music, like the rippling flow of the river Ellis, contin- 
ued its sweet low murmur, as the little newsie told how 
the magic charm of these beautiful words must have 
touched some chord in the savage breasts, for, as the 
girl ceased, the fiercest Indian caught the babe gently 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


307 


from the mother’s arms and carried it across the river. 
One of his companions also softened, and, picking up 
another child, bore it safely over the stream. 

Nathalie chose the familiar Willey story, about the 
family who lived in an inn on the side of Mount Wil* 
ley, at the entrance to the great Notch. In 1826,” 
said the girl, “ one evening in June they heard a queer, 
rumbling noise, and hurried out to see an avalanche of 
stones and uprooted trees making its way with great 
speed down the mountain. Fortunately, before it 
reached the house it swerved one side, and the Willeys, 
believing it quite safe, returned to the house, and, as 
time passed on, carelessly forgot the warning that had 
been given them. 

“ In August a severe storm occurred, which raged 
with indescribable fury for a day and a night, the rain 
falling in sheets, while the Saco overflowed its banks, 
thus creating a state of general upheaval. Two days 
later, a tourist traveling through the Notch arrived at 
the inn, to find it uninjured, but deserted, with the ex- 
ception of a half-starved dog who was whining dis- 
mally. He made his way to Bartlett, and the moun- 
taineers, hurrying to the scene, finally discovered the 
bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Willey and two hired men, 
who were buried in a mass of wreckage not far from 
the inn. The bodies of the children were never dis- 
covered. 

It is supposed,’^ explained Nathalie, “ that they had 


3o8 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


all rushed out on again hearing the rumbling noises, 
and had evidently tried to seek the shelter of a cave 
near. But they were too late,” she ended with a pa- 
thetic sigh, “ for the avalanche was upon them before 
they reached it. If they had only remained in the 
house they would have been saved.” 

A little later, as Philip and Van became engaged in 
a conversation about the war, a topic of which they 
never seemed to weary, Nathalie and Nita, with arms 
intertwined in long-cemented camaraderie, wandered to 
the high, jutting rock which Nathalie called “ Heaven’s 
window.” Here in awed silence they gazed at the far- 
away, scintillating blue peaks, huge escarpments, and 
yawning mountain crevasses towering above the alpine 
meadow, that, rich in many shades of verdure, dark- 
ened with cloud-shadows, and cut with ribbon-like 
trails of forest foliage, were a 

“ Wondrous woof of various greens.” 

In the sun-dyed splendor it was like a cloth of gold, a 
wondrous tapestry woven by Nature in her most ma- 
jestic mood, a picture that held them with the calm of 
its infinite beauty. 

Suddenly Nita, who never was quiet very long, cried : 
“ Oh, Nathalie, you must tell us what you meant when 
you said that you had a big idea. Don’t you remem- 
ber, it was when Janet made Philip stop his story? ” 

I don’t know as it is a very big idea,” replied her 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


309 


companion, “ for its bigness depends, as Dick says, on 
whether we make a go of it or not. I spoke of it then, 
not only because I had just thought of it, but because 
I wanted to second Janet, for Philip was as white as a 
ghost. 

“ You know,” she continued slowly, the afternoon 
teas at the Sweet Pea Tea-House have not been very 
well attended lately. I presume the minds of the peo- 
ple have been diverted by some new form of amuse- 
ment. Pm awfully sorry, too, for I tjiink my dear 
Sweet-Pea ladies need the money. Now what do you 
think of having Philip tell the rest of his story some 
afternoon at the Tea-House? We'll get Jean to tell 
his story, too, and the boys can sing patriotic songs; 
and then, there’s Tony, with his violin. I think we can 
get up a real good entertainment, an(J we can call it a 
Liberty Tea.” 

“ Oh, Nathalie, that’s a peach of an idea! ” Nita’s 
blue eyes glowed enthusiastically. 

“ You see,” returned her friend, “ it would attract 
the people to the Tea-House again, and also bring 
Philip into notice. I think his story would interest 
every one, and it might get him a few more pupils.” 

As the little party wended their way down the trail, 
they were busy making plans and devising ways to 
make Nathalie’s “big idea” feasible. They had 
broached the subject to Philip, — Nathalie being care- 
ful not to make it appear as if he would gain by the 


310 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


performance, — and he had readily consented to do his 
part. Janet, too, was won over, and as for the chil- 
dren, they were in a beatific state at the idea of appear- 
ing on a platform, and speaking a piece,*’ as Sheila 
called it. 

Miss Whipple, when the idea was suggested to her, 
Nathalie making it appear that Philip would derive 
great benefit from it, heartily favored the plan. So, 
for the next two days Nita and Nathalie were as busy 
as bees, drilling the children, making posters to feature 
the event at the different hotels, and then motoring to 
each one, and tacking them up, after getting the desired 
permission, so that the affair would be well advertised. 

The boys and Van Darrell, with the help of some 
friends of Nita’s at the Sunset Hill House, the morn- 
ing of the event decorated the Tea-House with greens, 
goldenrod, and flags. Sam assisted by erecting a 
small platform so gaudily festooned with red, blue, and 
white bunting that Nita said it was a regular “ call to 
the colors,” as she stood off and surveyed his work. 
Chairs, rustic seats, in fact, everything that could be 
used for a seat was now brought into the room, while 
the veranda was not only decorated with bunting and 
Japanese lanterns, the posts being twined with the na- 
tional colors in crepe paper, but filled with small tea- 
tables and chairs. 

At the hour designated for the performance to begin 
— to the girls’ delight, the room was crowded — Janet 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


311 

began to play softly on the piano, suddenly breaking into 
‘‘ Hail Columbia,’' then a patriotic march, following 
these selections with “ The Royal March of Italy,” the 
“ Lorraine March ” and several other well-known fav- 
orites either of the Americans or the Allies, ending with 
France’s adored march, Sambre et Meuse.” 

The boys, in their khaki suits, each one carrying his 
gun, now marched before the audience. They were 
headed by Sheila, who, as a little Goddess of Liberty, 
acted as the color-bearer. As she stepped to one side 
of the stage and stood at attention, the boys saluted the 
flag and then repeated the oath of allegiance. 

Sheila now fell in line, and they went through a 
manual-of-arms, and then, amid loud applause, broke 
into the ” Red, White, and Blue.” This was followed 
by a number of patriotic airs, and the national anthem, 
when all rose to their feet and joined in the sing- 
ing with patriotic fervor. After a short pause Danny 
started to whistle “La Marseillaise” — Janet playing 
the accompaniment on the piano very softly — as the 
children joined in, coming out with startling effect with 
the words : 

“To arms! Ye warriors all! 

Your bold battalions call! 

March on, ye free! ' 

Death shall be ours, 

Or glorious victory ! ” 

Van Darrell now appeared in front of the little plat- 
form — he had modestly refused to ascend it — and 


312 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


introduced Mr. Philip de Brie as a British soldier, a 
member of '' Kitchener’s mob,” known as the greatest 
volunteer army in the world. As Philip stepped for- 
ward in response to an enthusiastic ovation he bowed 
courteously, but with a certain difhdence of manner 
that showed that this was a more trying ordeal than 
being under fire at the front. 

The personal part of Philip’s story was quickly told, 
— how he came to join the army, — the audience cheer- 
ing lustily when he claimed he was an American, while 
a tenseness seized them as he related his strange experi- 
ence while lying in a shell-hole, and the revelation the 
apparition of the White Comrade had brought to him. 

Their interest continued as he told how, in the Brit- 
ish offensive south of the Somme, he and his company, 
with four machine-guns, had cleaned out a Prussian 
machine-gun nest that had been making havoc with 
their men. They peppered the enemy so severely, he 
asserted, while playing a crisscross game with their 
guns, that the only remaining German gunner was 
captured, surrounded by his dead comrades. 

When their ammunition failed, and they attempted 
to return to their lines under a fierce artillery fire, with 
bursting shells and shrapnel flying around them, they 
were compelled to take refuge under a bridge, where 
they remained for four hours under a fierce gas attack. 
He was again cheered as he told how, in another at- 
tempt to regain the firing-line, a bomb exploded, kill- 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


313 


ing several of their men, and how, when their lieuten- 
ant was missed, noted for his bravery and daring, he 
started out to find him. 

This recital was made graphic as he told of crawling 
on his stomach to dodge a bomb, or wiggling along to 
peer into shell-pits, and how, when a flare was thrown 
up by the enemy, illuminating the battlefield like some 
big electric show, he suddenly found himself, as it 
were, back to the wall, — for he had no ammunition, 
— desperately fighting a big, husky German who 
was fumbling in his pocket, evidently for a hand- 
grenade. Another cheer, and then almost a groan went 
through the room as Philip continued, and told how, 
as he tried to get him by the throat, he made a lunge at 
him and thrust his bayonet through his arm. The Ger- 
man finished off his work by knocking him on the head 
with his rifle, finally leading him, dazed and blinded, be- 
hind the German lines, a prisoner. 

The neglect he received in the field and base hospital, 
and the horrible treatment he was compelled to witness, 
as endured by the wounded prisoners, was received 
with a storm of hisses. How he was pronounced 
cured, although he had been rendered dumb, either 
from nerve-shock or the force of the blow on the head, 
and then taken to a German prison-camp, and crowded 
in with hundreds of men in a wooden shed, with a 
flooring of mud four inches thick, aroused renewed in- 
dignation. Here, with no blankets, no ventilation. 


314 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


overcoat, or personal belongings, he slept on a straw 
tick, with insufficient food, and that of such a horrible 
quality that he grew emaciated and covered with boils. 

When some of the prisoners were transferred to an- 
other camp Philip told how he had the good luck to be 
one of them, and how, when the train was struck by a 
bursting bomb, crashing in the roof when going at a 
speed of thirty miles an hour, he, with two other pris- 
oners, climbed up and jumped to the ground, one man 
being killed. 

This was the beginning of his race for life, in which 
he dodged guards and sentries, cut his way through 
barbed wire, and hid in a forest for three days, and, 
after many other thrilling adventures, finally came 
to a field within a few miles of the British lines. 

‘‘ Here,” Philip continued, “ as we lay concealed in a 
dugout under a bank, we heard a familiar whirr, and 
looked up to see an air-battle taking place between a 
French and Boche plane. With taut breath I watched 
the planes circle round and round in the air, while keep- 
ing up a steady fire at one another, until the French 
plane began to drive its enemy back and back, until 
they were directly over the British entrenchments. 
Then we heard the rat-tat-tat, and knew that one of 
the planes had been fired upon from below. Suddenly 
it burst into flames, lunged to one side, and then, in a 
long sweep through the air, began to circle downward 
like a great flash of fire, sending forth a shower of 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


315 


sparks as it fell. And then I screamed from sheer joy, 
for I recognized that it was the Boche plane that had 
fallen. It is needless to say that my speech had re- 
turned.” 

After telling how they had regained the British lines, 
and how he had finally reached a hospital in London, 
where he remained for some weeks in a miserably de- 
pressed state of mind, on learning that his mother had 
died during his absence, Philip finished his story by tell- 
ing how he came to sail for America. He told of his 
search for his grandmother, and how he came to live in 
the little cabin on the mountain. From the plaudits 
that greeted him, as he bowed and retired from the plat- 
form, it was evident that his story had been greatly en- 
joyed by his listeners. 

When Tony a moment or so later, in his old vel- 
veteen vest, with his violin under his arm, and his vel- 
vety black eyes aglow in a beatific smile, bobbed a 
funny little bow to his audience, he was warmly re- 
ceived. But a sudden hush succeeded as the little vio- 
linist, with his instrument tucked under his chubby 
chin, fingered the bow lovingly as he moved it over the 
strings, evoking such sweet, rich music that the violin 
seemed like some enchanted thing. 

Surely this little slum lad, with no training to guide 
him, of his own volition could not have produced such 
ravishing melody as floated through the room. As he 
played his face lost its smile, and there came a play of 


3i6 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


expression, now tender and sad, now dreamy or grave, 
in accord with the varied moods of the music, as he 
played on and on with a passion, a rich tenderness, 
every note in tune, that seemed almost marvelous. 
When he ended with a vehement little shake of his head 
— that sent his waving hair flying about — in much 
the same manner that great musicians affect, it brought 
down the house in loud applause. 

As an encore he played several Italian airs, weird, 
dreamy music, finally ending with “ Traumerei,’' Schu- 
mann’s “ Dream Song.” No, he didn’t play it all, only 
snatches, and these were not always rendered according 
to the score, but he held his audience in a hushed still- 
ness, until, with a little shake of his bow, and a low 
bow, he turned and ran quickly from the platform. 

Sheila hid her face in Nathalie’s skirt when her turn 
came to ascend the platform and speak her “ liberty 
piece.” Nathalie was in the throes of despair, for fear 
that she was going to fail her, when Tony leaned for- 
ward and teasingly whispered, “ Oh, Boy ! ” This 
reminiscent remark caused the little lady’s head to go 
up, and her chin, too, and in angry defiance she 
marched up on the platform. As Nathalie, who was 
sitting down in the front row of chairs, gave her the 
cue, her little treble was heard repeating James Whit- 
comb Riley’s poem Liberty,” her voice ringing out 
loud and clear when she came to the stanza : 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


317 


“ Sing for the arms that fling 
Their fetters in the dust 
And lift their hands in higher trust, 

Unto the one Great King; 

Sing for the patriot home and land, 

Sing for the country they have planned ; 

Sing that the world may understand 
This is Freedom’s land ! ” 

It was pathetic to see the little empty-sleeved Jean, 
as he straightened up his slender form, and, in an at- 
tempt at bravery, hurried on the platform. Without 
waiting for the accompanist, — forgetting to greet his 
audience in his fright, — he burst into the words of Bel- 
gium’s national anthem, “ Brabanconne,” singing it 
with a verve and spirit, — as he stood, with his one 
hand nervously clinched in front of him and his eyes 
uplifted, — that showed that the soul of Belgium was 
not dead. 

This impassioned appeal from the boy as he ended, 
and stood in mute bewilderment, his eyes again haunted 
by that look of hopeless terror, aroused the audience to 
prolonged applause. Philip now stepped to his side, 
and, as he laid his hand reassuringly on the little shoul- 
der, the refugee began his pitiful tale. 

His arm had been cut off, he told, by a German sol- 
dier, who had made his mother cry, when he had rushed 
up and pounded him with his fists to make him desist. 
The soldier had dragged his mother away, and then he 
had been told that she had died. There was a quiver 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


318 

to the lad’s voice as he related this sorrowful incident, 
but he winked his eyes together to keep back the tears. 

Two days later, with his aged grandparents, he had 
been driven to the town square, and there a soldier had 
shot his grandfather because the old man had rebuked 
him for dragging the boy’s grandmother roughly 
about. She had shrieked and fallen, to be trampled in 
the crush, for when they picked her up she was very 
white, and had never opened her eyes again. When 
all the women and children were herded together like 
cows, and driven along a road, with a big German 
soldier pointing his gun at them, Jean had suddenly 
run away, as fast as he could, and he had run and run 
with his eyes shut, for he was afraid of the bullets that 
came whistling on all sides of him. 

Finally he had fallen from exhaustion, and then he 
had crawled into the dark cellar of a shelled house. 
Here he had remained for a long time, going out at 
night to a battlefield near and taking what food he 
could find from the knapsacks of the dead soldiers. 
At last he could find no more food, and then he had 
wandered on, walking wearily along for miles and 
miles, until he had become part of those fleeing throngs 
of refugees that blocked the roads for many long miles, 
sleeping on the roadside at night. Sometimes he 
would have a little bread, or a piece of cheese given to 
him, and then for days he went hungry. Finally he 
reached a town, where a lady with a red cross on her 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


319 


white cap had cared for him in a hospital. But the 
Germans shelled the hospital, and they said the lady 
was killed, and then — Well, he had gone on again, 
walking at night, alone, from place to place, when no 
one could see him, while hiding in the woods by day. 

On learning that he was not far from the French 
army, he had struggled on until he was within a short 
distance of their lines, where he hid in a forest. 
When a dark still night came, he stealthily crept into 
No Man’s Land, and, on his hands and knees, worked 
his way from hole to hole, quickly wiggling into one 
if he heard the slightest sound, until he reached the 
French sentry, who pointed his gun at him and told him 
to halt. 

He was so frightened when he saw that gun aimed 
at him that he burst into tears, but a moment later at- 
tempted to sing “ La Marseillaise,” so as to let the 
soldier know that he was not a German. The soldier 
took him behind the front, where a regiment of artil- 
lery not only fed and cared for him, but adopted him 
as their “ kid mascot,” as Philip interpreted it, when it 
was learned that his father, who was fighting in the 
Belgian army, had been captured and carried a pris- 
oner to Germany. When the regiment had left for 
service at the front he was delivered into the hands of 
Father Belloy, a French priest, who finally gave him 
to a kind lady, who had brought him, with a number 
of other children, to America. As the little lad fin- 


320 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


ished his story, he turned to rush from the stage, and 
then, as if inspired by a sudden thought, he threw up 
his one hand and lustily cried, “ Vive la Belgique ! ” 

A second more and the audience, caught by the con- 
tagion of this cry, and the appeal to their sympathies 
by the Belgian’s story, broke into enthusiastic clapping 
and cheering, mingled with loud hurrahs for Belgium. 
It was at this point that a guest from the Sunset Hill 
House jumped to his feet, and proposed that a silver 
collection be taken up, to be divided between the Ameri- 
can-British soldier, the little Sons of Liberty, and the 
ladies of the Tea-House, who had so kindly given it 
for the entertainment of the guests. 

This suggestion was heartily seconded, and while 
Van and the gentleman were passing the hat, into 
which flowed a goodly collection of silver coins, the 
little Sons of Liberty appeared, and, as a finish to the 
entertainment, gave them a sing-song. The old, sweet 
songs, the songs that lie very near to the heart of every 
Anglo-Saxon, were sung by these clear childish voices, 
Danny either singing or whistling, while Tony ac- 
companied them on his violin, with Janet, Nathalie, 
and Nita, — even the audience at times, — proving good 
seconds in this musical song-feast. Annie Laurie,” 
The Blue Bells of Scotland,” “ Wearing of the 
Green,” My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” “ Mother 
Machree,” ‘‘ Dixie,” were given, followed by the new 
war-songs, as, “ Keep the Home Fiijs Burning, 


THE LIBERTY TEA 


321 


‘‘ Pack up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag,” 
There’s a Long, Long Trail,” Over There,” and, as 
a grand finale, “ The Star-Spangled Banner,” when the 
audience rose and joined in with patriotic fervor. 

And then Miss Mona, Janet, Nathalie, Nita, the 
two soldiers, and even the little “ Sons of Liberty ” 
were all busy serving tea, out on the veranda, to the 
many guests, who all declared that they had not only 
enjoyed Philip’s and Jean’s stories, but the children’s 
singing. 

Two days later, Nathalie was darning her boys’ 
socks on the veranda, when Nita drove up in her car. 
She was so excited that she began to shout that she had 
good news to tell, as soon as she caught sight of Na- 
thalie’s brown head. 

‘‘ Oh, Nathalie,” she continued, all out of breath, as 
her friend hurried to meet her, “ what do you think? 
The manager up at the Sunset Hill House, — you know 
he is a dear — has asked Mr. de Brie and the whole 
crowd who took part at the Liberty Tea, to come to the 
hotel next Saturday night and repeat the performance. 
And he says there will be another silver collection. 
And, oh, isn’t it just the dandiest thing that lots of the 
girls want to join the French class! ” And then the 
young lady, in the exuberance of her joy, fell upon the 
neck of her friend and began to kiss her with hearty 
unction. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE FUNNIES 

N athalie, with a limpid brightness in her eyes, 
and a deep pink in her cheeks, was whirling 
about — doing a one-step — with her soldier 
friend, Van Darrell, who she had discovered was 
a love of a dancer.” It was the night of the second 
Liberty Tea, this time held at the Sunset Hill House. 
The affair had not only proved a glorious success, each 
one of the performers doing his or her part even better 
than at the Tea-House, but it had also netted quite a 
pile of silver coins, to the delight of the children, and 
added several new pupils to Philip’s French class at 
the hotel, besides giving him a few private ones. 

The informal little hop at the end of the perform- 
ance contributed to the pleasure of the evening, prov- 
ing a real joy-tin e to Nathalie, who loved dancing. 
The girl had laughingly asserted to Nita that she had 
fairly worn her slippers to a thread. 

Compelled from sheer fatigue to rest, the young 
couple, in order to escape from the heat of the ball- 
room, had sought refuge in one of the little card-rooms 
opening from the long corridor. It was here, as they 
happily chatted, that Van suddenly made the announce- 
322 


THE FUNNIES 


323 


ment, somewhat regretfully, Do you know. Miss Blue 
Robin, that this is my last evening with you and the 
mountains, for I leave for Camp Mills to-morrow 
morning? ” 

Oh, I’m so sorry,” exclaimed the girl with a note 
of disappointment in her voice, for she was disap- 
pointed as well as surprised, for, somehow, she had 
taken a liking to this soldier-boy, with the frank, open 
gaze, who could be very merry at times, and then again 
unusually silent and grave. We shall miss you at 
our Liberty Cheers, and Mr. de Brie, I know, will be 
lonely without his soldier ‘ matey.’ ” 

I shall miss you all,” rejoined Van slowly, for 
you girls have given me the joy-time of the summer, 
and I shall be sorry to say good-by to you all, espe- 
cially you.” Van looked appealingly into the girl’s 
brown eyes, as if he wanted her to assure him that 
she would miss him. 

Nathalie flushed a little, as she replied, ‘‘ Well, it 
has been a great pleasure to meet you. I can assure 
you, however, that I never thought of meeting one of 
Uncle Sam’s soldiers when I came up here to these 
White Hills.” 

“ I would like to tell you,” continued Van, — he gave 
his companion an odd look as he spoke, — ‘‘ that I know 
a girl by the name of Blue Robin. She’s an awfully 
good sort, — ” again that funny little gleam in his eyes. 

I had a letter from her a short time ago. It was the 


324 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


kind of a letter to set a fellow thinking. I would like 
to show it to you sometime,” he added hesitatingly. 

“ Why, isn’t that funny ! Are you sure her name 
is like mine?” questioned Nathalie in a whirl of 
amazement. Van nodded and smiled with some 
amusement, as he assured Nathalie that he was quite 
positive her name was Blue Robin. But, as the girl 
continued to ply him with questions about this girl, 
who, he insisted, bore her name, his answers grew 
evasive, until finally Nathalie desisted from her ques- 
tions, in a maze of mystery. 

Presently they were in the ballroom again, and while 
taking another turn Van asked his partner if she would 
answer his letter if he wrote to her. Nathalie grew 
red with embarrassment at this direct question, for, as 
she had been whirling about, it had suddenly occurred 
to her what a queer thing it was for Van to say he 
would show her another girl’s letter. 

Somehow the thought jarred her serenity, and, not 
knowing what reply to make, she finally settled the 
doubt in her mind by saying that if he wrote to her she 
would answer him if her mother thought best. For, 
happily, Nathalie was a real mother-girl, and, when in 
doubt about anything, always went to her for advice. 

On the way home — Mrs. Van Vorst had sent 
them in her car — she had a disappointed feeling. 
She wished Van had not asked her to write to him, 
or told her about that other Blue Robin, for — O 


THE FUNNIES 


325 


dear ! she had heard of boys who would coax a girl to 
write to them, and then show their letters and make 
a boast of them. Ah, well, she sighed regretfully, 
she had not supposed he was that kind. 

A few days later Nathalie was sitting under the 
trees before a small sewing-table, writing a letter to 
Helen. Presently she laid down her pen, and glanced 
over at her mother, who, while resting in the hammock 
near, had fallen asleep. Then, so as not to awaken 
her, almost in a whisper, she read : 

“ Dear Helen : 

“ I am going to call this letter ‘ The Funnies,^ for 
I have some awfully funny things I want you to know, 
but first, I must tell you about my liberty kids, as I 
have promised to do many times. Danny is fourteen, 
a regular street-gamin, steeped and double-dyed in 
the ways of the slums and the habits of a newsie. 
There is an alert sharpness about him at times that 
baffles me, and yet his freckled, peanut face, with its 
twinkling blue eyes, has an open, merry expression that 
assures me he has the makings of a splendid man in 
him. I call him my handy man, for he not only does 
all the laundering for the children, but can cook, and 
wait on the table in fine style. 

“ He is a loyal little chap, so watchful of Sheila, and 
always tells the truth. He used to belong to the Junior 
Police Force, — he’s awfully proud of that, — and I 
think that has kept him on the square. I have an idea 
that his parents must have been refined people, for, 
when cleaning his room one day, his bag flew open — 
it was standing in a corner — and a little blue book fell 
out, scattering a lot of letters about, and a picture. 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


3^6 

The picture was a miniature of a young woman. She 
had a lovely face, it reminded me of Sheila, and her 
eyes had the same laughing glints in them that Danny 
has in his. The blue book seemed to be a diary, for 
on it in gilt letters was the name, Sheila Gloom. 

“ I have told you how quaint and interesting Sheila 
is, and lots about Jean, so I am going to tell you about 
Tony. He reminds me of one of Raphael’s cherubs, 
with his soft, liquid brown eyes, his red lips and ivory- 
tinted skin, and his wavy black hair that is always in 
a frowse. He adores me, and has an odd, sweet little 
trick of taking my hand, and then bending down and 
kissing it, in such a gallant way that he makes me 
think of the knights of mediaeval days, who knelt to 
their ladies fair. And I love to hear him say, ‘ I lova 
you, Mees Natta,’ for his voice is so soft and musical. 
But alas, he is not as open as Danny, and will tell 
teeny, teeny white lies, while looking right up into your 
face with such a cherubic, innocent expression, that 
you have the feeling that you are the guilty one, and 
not he. 

“ Did I tell you in my last letter what good friends 
the little old lady in the red house and I have become ? 
I run in there quite often. Sometimes I read to her, 
or hold her yarn, and for two days I nursed her when 
she was ill. I am a great chatterbox, for, O dear! 
I just talk about everything to her, but she says my 
chats cheer her up. But, you see, she keeps asking me 
questions, first about one person of our household, 
and then another. She loves to have me tell her about 
Janet, but she doesn’t seem to like Cynthia very much. 

“ I am getting used to her queer ways now, and 
can tell, by the gleam in her gray eyes, — sometimes 
they snap with humor, — the mood she is in, for, 
frankly speaking, at times she is most cantankerous. 
I feel sorry for her then, for I imagine that some great 


THE FUNNIES 


327 


sorrow has come into her life and soured the sweet- 
ness of it. She is always greatly interested in Mr. 
de Brie, and I have promised to take him in sometime 
to see her. 

Oh, I must not forget to tell you that Dick is with 
us for a few days — on a furlough. And mother, — 
well, she goes about like a glorified saint. Now come 
the funnies. Cynthia Loretto’s young man is here. 
His name is Buddie, but he looks anything but a bud, 
although Cyn always speaks of him as if he had just 
gone into long trousers. 

“ He is queerly interesting, for he sits and looks at 
Cynthia in a meek, adoring way, while his big solemn 
blue eyes keep up a blinking that have made the kiddies 
— you know boys always feature peculiarities — dub 
him, ‘ The Blink.’ As to other details, he’s insignifi- 
cant-looking, with a shock of yellow hair that gives 
him an unkempt, Hunnish appearance, and a sharp, 
ferret-like nose with an inquisitive tip on it that is 
sunburned to a bright red. Imagine ! 

“ Now for funny number one. The Blink — we all 
unconsciously call him that — and the make-believe 
lady — that’s the boys’ name for Cynthia — have 
monopolized the hammock on the veranda ever since 
the gentleman’s arrival. It has been annoying, for 
they — Well, they spoon, and it gets on one’s nerves, 
and after a while these lovers are the star performers 
on the stage. 

The other morning I caught Danny and Tony 
fooling with the hammock. They said they were fix- 
ing it so it wouldn’t slip down. That evening every 
one had disappeared but your lonesome and the 
lovers, who were in the hammock with arms inter- 
twined, with the usual turtle-dove cooing. 

“ All at once I heard a queer sound, and looked in 
the direction from which it proceeded, to see two pairs 


328 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


of legs sweeping through the air with a wild, frantic 
clawing, while shrill cries and a swear-word informed 
me that the hammock had turned over, and that the 
pair of love-makers were standing on their heads. I 
tried not to laugh, but a wee little giggle slipped out, 
and then I flew to the rescue and turned down, or 
turned up, Cynthia’s skirts, and then gave a helping 
hand to The Blink, who rose to his feet with a wild, 
bewildered stare in his blinking eyes. Then I flew, 
for if I hadn’t, I should have collapsed with merriment, 
for, as it was, I was stuffing my handkerchief in my 
mouth to keep in my laughter. 

“ As I flew through the hall queer sounds arrested 
my flight, and there, on the floor, were those two kids, 
Danny and Tony, rolling about in exultant joy, while 
emitting squeals of delighted glee. And then I knew 
why they had been fooling with the hammock that 
morning. I was smothering with laughter, but 
grabbed each one by an ear and marched them to 
mother, with appropriate explanations, leaving her to 
administer the punishment they deserved. Naturally 
Cynthia blamed me, insisting that I had encouraged the 
boys in their mischief, and hasn’t spoken to me since. 

“ Funny number two. I have told you of Cyn- 
thia’s obsession for searching for the valuable thing. 
Well, evidently she has imparted her obsession to her 
lover, for we find him poking around into all sorts of 
out-of-the-way places, that annoys mother extremely. 
The other morning Mrs. Van Vorst sent me to the 
studio with a message for Cynthia. The door was 
open, and, to my amazement, I saw the lady in ques- 
tion hoisted up on a ladder, — The Blink was holding 
it, — poking about among the rafters of the attic. 

“ As T stood wondering what she was doing, I saw 
her suddenly duck her head, and then, to my stupefac- 


THE FUNNIES 


329 


tion, the Make-believe Lady was perched up there on 
that ladder like a poll-parrot, for her head was as bare 
as a billiard-ball, while her hair that was, was swaying 
gracefully on a nail some distance above. 

“ Suddenly discovering her nudity, she made a 
frenzied grab, not at the suspended wig, but at her 
skirts, hurriedly throwing them over her head, as if 
to hide its bareness, and then made frantic attempts 
to unhitch the black hairy thing that wiggled and wob- 
bled just out of reach of her arm. At this moment 
Mr. Buddie — patience was written in his drooping 
pose, as he clung to that ladder — raised his head. 
His face immediately became the hue of his nose, for, 
alas, Cynthia, in her hurried endeavor to cover her 
denuded poll, had raised not only her dress-skirt but 
her under-skirts, and two black-hosed legs, lean and 
lank, stood forth from beneath her short, berufifled 
skirt. I waited to see no more, but hastily made my 
exit, to explode my mirth in the depths of my pillow 
on the bed in my room. 

“ Funny number three. My bedroom was next to the 
mystery-room, and then comes Cynthia’s, — she and 
Janet room together. There is a door between, which 
is generally closed, unless it is very warm. The other 
evening we were just getting ready for bed, when I 
suddenly remembered something I wanted to tell Janet, 
so stepped to the door, which was open. The room 
was dimly lighted by a single candle, and Cynthia, 
who likes to undress in the dark, was on her knees by 
the bed, saying her prayers, while Janet sat near, 
taking off her shoes. 

“ As I turned away so as not to disturb Cynthia at 
her devotions, I suddenly spied a man’s face peering 
in the transom over the door. Before I could cry 
out, Cynthia arose, and, carelessly glancing up, saw 


330 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


the face. With a wild scream she seized one of 
Janet’s shoes lying on the floor, and sent it flying at 
the head peeping over the door. 

“ I gasped, for it struck the man square on the 
nose. Then I heard a suppressed expletive, followed 
by a jarring crash, a general smashing sound, and then 
a dead silence. I gave one prolonged scream and 
rushed to the door. You can guess the rest, for Dick, 
mother, and even the boys had heard the racket, and 
a moment later, when they appeared on the scene, it 
was to find me trying to extricate the figure of a man, 
in a bath-robe, with a somewhat dazed expression on 
his meek, bewildered face, — that would have been 
pitiful if it had not been so ludicrous — from the 
debris of broken chairs and a turned-over table. 

“ And his eye, well, it was already beginning to 
swell; for Cynthia had been game, Dick said, and had 
not only given her lover a swelled nose, but a swelled 
eye as well. O dear! it was comical to see the way 
she glared at the poor creature, meekly trying to ex- 
plain that he was only trying to peer into the mystery- 
room, for he seems to think that the valuable thing is 
hidden in that room, and had gotten as far as he could 
get — into the wrong room. Mother says she is glad 
it happened and hopes he will now stop his prowling. 

“ Now for funny number four. After the excite- 
ment caused by Mr. Buddie’s efforts to peep into the 
mystery-room quietness reigned for a while, until the 
other night. I was terribly tired, for I had been doing 
the kids’ ironing, and my feet ached so that I carried 
a pail of hot water to my room to soak them. I am 
on the uppper floor now, near the boys, for Cynthia 
insisted that they made such a noise at night that they 
kept her awake. But everything that goes wrong she 
lays on their little shoulders, so I have mounted guard, 
to avoid any future unpleasantness. As I sat there, 


THE FUNNIES 


331 

trying to make up my mind to plunge my feet in that 
hot water, I heard a queer sound. 

There has been a report lately that burglars are in 
the neighborhood, for several of the ladies at the Sun- 
set Hill House have missed articles of jewelry. Some- 
how that noise brought it to my mind, and I jumped 
up, — I was in my bare feet, — quickly turned off the 
light, stepped to the window, and poked my head out, 
and — if there wasn’t a man on the roof of the ve- 
randa, creeping stealthily towards the mystery-room, 
directly under mine. O dear! and its two windows 
were both unlatched, — one of the boys had discovered 
that, — but no one had dared to break the rule and go 
in to fasten them. In a moment he had begun to 
work at the shutters, very cautiously, — he had a flash- 
light in his hand, — stopping every moment or so to 
listen, to see if any one had heard him, 

“ My heart bounded into my throat, but while I was 
making up my mind what to do, there came a wrench, 
and I knew that in a moment or so that man would be 
in the room! Desperate with fright, I flung about, 
and then my glance fell on that pail of water. With- 
out further ado I seized it, pushed it softly out of the 
window, hurriedly turned it upside down, and then 
hurled the pail after the water. There came a smoth- 
ered sound, a half-cry and groan, and then a funny, 
swishy noise. 

‘‘ As I peered down through the darkness I saw a 
black object slipping down the roof, and heard a sud- 
den imprecation, as it rolled over the edge. There 
came a splashy sound, a deep groan, and then I knew 
that the thief had fallen off the roof, and landed in a 
hogshead of water that always stood under the veranda 
by the kitchen porch. 

‘‘ Now came a fierce barking, mingled with growls, 
and I realized that Jean’s little dog, Tige, was chewing 


332 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


up the thief. The next instant I made a mad rush 
for the door, to see Dick flying down the stairs in his 
bath-robe, followed by mother and the boys ! 

“ I plunged blindly forward, managed to grab him 
by the arm, and, between hysterical gasps, explained 
what 1 had seen, and begged him not to go out for 
fear the man would shoot him. But Dick shook me 
off like a feather, and, although mother tearfully 
seconded my plea, he was about to dash into the dark- 
ness when Cynthia rushed up and handed him her 
revolver, — Janet says she always sleeps with one un- 
der her pillow. The boys — each little chap, even 
Jean, was armed to the teeth, Danny with his police- 
man’s club, Tony with an iron bar, and Jean with a 
mountain-staff — lost no time in following him, with 
mother close behind. 

I grabbed a chair — it could fell a man, at least — 
and followed mother, while Janet, Cynthia, and Sheila 
alternately yelled and wept as they sat huddled on the 
stairs, each one expecting to be shot. But by the time 
I reached the veranda Dick appeared, dragging a miser- 
able-looking little object by the collar of his pajamas, — 
for his trousers had been about chewed off by Tige, — 
with rivulets of water oozing over his face, who was 
abjectly pleading and howling that he was no thief. 

“ But Dick was obdurate, and as we all stared with 
bulging eyes, he marched him up to Cynthia. As he 
shook him fiercely by the collar, as one would shake 
a dog, he cried, ‘ Here, Miss Cynthia, here’s the thief, 
your estimable friend and lover, Mr. Buddie ! ’ I leave 
the rest for you to imagine. Mr. Buddie left the next 
morning. 

Now good-by. Be sure and tell me more about 
yourself and your work when you write again, for I 
am anxious to know everything that happens to you, 


THE FUNNIES 


333 

girl of my heart, for you are a brave dear, and I miss 
you more than I can express. 

‘‘ Again with love, 

“ Nathalie Page.’’ 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 

‘ ‘ Nathalie, what do you think? They have 

% B sent for a detective up at the hotel ! ” The 
speaker was Nita, who, with her friend, was 
sitting on the veranda of Seven Pillars, a few after- 
noons subsequent to Nathalie’s sending her letter to 
Helen. 

“ A detective? ” echoed Nathalie, looking at Nita in 
surprise. What for ? ” 

“ Why, about those robberies. I told you some time 
ago how the guests were missing jewelry and other 
small articles of value. It has been kept very quiet, 
but mother heard this morning that the manager is 
getting worried as to who is the thief, and has sent for 
a secret-service man to come up and ferret out the 
mystery. But, Blue Robin,” she added, with a more 
serious expression, “ those school friends of yours are 
not going to take any more French lessons.” 

And pray, why not? ” demanded Nathalie. Then 
she ejaculated, “ Dear me, what have we done to of- 
fend them now ? ” 


334 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 335 

“ I don’t know. But, Nathalie, did you notice the 
night of the Liberty Tea at the hotel, how they sat in 
a corner, whispering most of the time? I had an un- 
canny feeling that they were making unkind remarks 
about us, not that I care, for I don’t like them anyway,” 
added Nita disgustedly. 

“ I’m sorry,” said Nathalie regretfully, for I hate 
to have Mr. de Brie lose any pupils. I imagine they 
were angry at the last Liberty Cheer, for, you remem- 
ber, when they joined us we all grew very quiet. Not 
that any one meant to be rude, but they are so snobby 
that they cast a cloud over one’s fun.” 

“ Well, I guess Philip can get along without them,” 
returned Nita confidently. “ Did you notice that he 
was quite the lion the other evening? He cast the 
Count quite into the shade, for evqry one fell in love 
with him.” 

“ Yes, he can be very charming,” acquiesced Na- 
thalie, ‘‘ for he is so distinguished-looking in his uni- 
form of a British lieutenant. Mother says that in his 
manners he combines the fineness of an American 
gentleman with the courtesy and charm of a French- 
man. I am sorry about his arm, for the doctor says 
he will always have to carry it stiffly. 

“ But, Nita,” continued Nathalie, “ I just adore that 
big doctor friend of yours. What do you think? I 
was worrying about his calling so many times on 
Philip, for I was afraid that my ‘ drop in the bucket ’ 


336 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


would not be enough to pay the bill, and of course 
Philip wouldn't have enough from his earnings to pay 
it. Finally I wrote the doctor to send his bill to me. 
And oh, Nita, he wrote me a love of a letter, in which 
he said that he never charged girls anything. And as 
for Mr. de Brie, he considered it his great privilege to 
be allowed to give his services to a man who had given 
the best of himself to give liberty to the world. Oh, 
I think he is just the dearest old thing! ” ended the girl 
enthusiastically. 

Oh, I knew he would do answered Nita, 

with a wise little smile, “ for he has the best heart in 
the world.” 

“ But listen,” went on her companion earnestly. 
** Janet told Philip about it, excusing herself by saying 
that he was worrying over the bill, and that she wanted 
to relieve his mind.” 

“ Of course she did,” giggled Nita, for one can 
see with half an eye what is going on in that direction, 
for it is a clear case of ‘ spoons,’ all right.” 

“ Do you really think so? ” cried Nathalie with sud- 
den animation. Why, I suggested something of that 
kind to mother, and she said I was a silly. W ell, they 
were made for one another. Why, Philip just adores 
the ground she walks on, and as for Janet, it’s just a 
guessing game as to how she feels. But, to go on with 
my tale,” continued the girl. “ As soon as Philip 
heard what Janet had to tell, he came straight to me. 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 337 

and, with a voice that fairly shook with emotion, said 
that my kindness to him would be one of the unforget- 
table things in his life. Of course 1 had to make light 
of the matter, for I saw the poor fellow was terribly 
affected over it. Oh, I do hope things will brighten 
for him this fall, for he is going to the city, to make 
an attempt to get some pupils to tutor until his health 
is better. You know,” she added, dropping her voice, 
“ I think there must have been some mystery about 
his grandmother, or his family, for although he loves 
to come down here and be one of us, — he says it is so 
homey with us, — he never says a word about her or 
his family.” 

Nita had been reading to Miss Whipple, and Na- 
thalie had been tying up sweet peas, one morning a few 
days after Nita’s news about the detective, and the 
two girls were on their homeward way, when Nathalie 
suddenly exclaimed with a little burst of laughter, 
“ Oh, Nita, I hav^e something funny to tell you.” 

“ Well, tell it to me then,” rejoined her companion 
somewhat dolefully, “ for although 1 have something 
to tell you, alas, it is anything but funny.” 

“ Oh, is it about Philip? ” cried Nathalie, a sudden 
premonition of evil darkening the golden lights of her 
eyes. “ Or are any more of the girls going to give up 
taking French lessons?” 

“It is worse than that/' answered Nita, with such 
grave import in her voice that Nathalie stared at her 


338 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


with big eyes as she cried, “ Oh, Nita! do hurry and 
tell me. Have those girls — ” 

‘‘ Yes, those girls, your friends — ” 

** Please don’t call them my friends,” pleaded poor 
Nathalie tremulously, “ for they are anything but 
friends.” 

“ So it seems,” nodded Nita dryly, for they have 
told — well, just about every one in the house — that 
they suspect that Mr. de Brie is the thief who has been 
robbing the hotel. You know he has been giving them 
private lessons. Nelda declares that she believes 
Philip took her watch, — it was lying on the table when 
she left the room to answer a ’phone call from the 
office. Justine was out riding with the Count. When 
Nelda returned the watch was gone. Five other girls 
came to me this morning and told me that they were 
not going to take any more lessons. 

‘‘ These girls have circulated all over the house,” 
continued Nita gloomily, “ that Philip is an impostor; 
that you picked him up without knowing anything 
about him, and that he is not a British soldier at all. 
O dear! how hateful people can act! And the clerk 
of the hotel — Well, he informed me this morning 
that the Profile House had sent word that they did not 
care to have Philip speak to their guests, as people were 
tired of hearing about the war.” 

Nita, this is terrible ! Oh, I know Philip is not an 
impostor,” protested Nathalie with a dismayed face. 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 339 


‘‘ Why, Nita, he showed me a letter written to him by 
a soldier at the front, and he called him Lieutenant de 
Brie. And where could he have gotten his uniform 
if he is an impostor? Oh, 1 just believe those horrid, 
hateful girls have made the whole thing up.” Nathalie 
stopped, suddenly remembering that she was not speak- 
ing kindly, and not living up to her motto. She gave 
a long sigh, and then asked, “ But, Nita, have you 
heard anything more about the detective coming up 
from the city? ” 

‘‘ Yes. Oh ! there he is now, coming down the 
walk,” cried Nita, lowering her voice. Then she 
added, with a laugh, “ Talk of the angels and you’ll 
hear the flutter of their wings.” 

“ Well, he doesn’t look much like an angel,” an- 
swered Nathalie, her eyes lighting humorously, as she 
watched a stout, . red-faced man with a sandy 
moustache coming down the path towards them. 

As the gentleman under discussion approached the 
girls he lifted his hat courteously, as he said, ‘H beg 
your pardon, but could you tell me how I can reach 
the top of Garnet? I understand that there are sev- 
eral trails up the mountain, but could you tell me which 
one would be the best one to ascend ? ” 

The girls made no reply for a moment, assailed by 
the miserable fear that the man was going up the 
mountain to trail Philip. Then Nathalie, with an ef- 
fort, turned and pointed down the road, explaining in 


340 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


a few words that one of the trails started in near the 
Grand View road. 

As the man thanked her and walked slowly on, 
Nathalie drew a deep breath, while a troubled light 
shone in Nita’s eyes, as she cried, “ Oh, do you sup- 
pose he is going to arrest Philip ? ” She spoke in a 
half-whisper. 

“Arrest Philip? Why, the idea of such a thing! 
No, of course not,’’ Nathalie answered determinedly, 
as if she was not going to allow herself to become 
frightened. “ Philip has committed no crime. That 
man can’t arrest him unless he has some evidence, and 
where is he going to get it? ” 

Nita made no reply, and the two girls, depressed by 
the unpleasant occurrence, and the vague fear that 
trouble was brewing for their friend, sat down in one 
of the summer-houses near the board-walk. Here they 
sat in silence for a few moments, and then Nathalie, as 
if determined to throw off the depression that as- 
sailed her, cried, “ Oh, Nita, I have not told you the 
funny thing.” 

“Well, tell it to me, then; for I think it will take 
something real comical to get me out of the blues.” 

“ It is about Tony,” explained Nathalie. “ You 
know the child is obsessed with the desire to have me 
find the mystery thing. Well, the other day Danny 
came running to tell me that Tony was rolling on the 
floor with the colic. I was alarmed, for I immediately 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 


341 


thought he had been eating green apples, the way 
Sheila did the other day, and mother had to poultice 
her with mustard. 

“ I hew to his room and there was the little fellow 
moaning and squirming about, apparently in great 
pain. When he saw me he immediately begged me to 
put a mustard plaster on his stomach. I was sur- 
prised, for generally children will suffer quite a little 
before they will have one on. I found some old linen, 
— mother was out, — hurried down to the kitchen 
closet, and got the mustard-box. 

‘‘ But when I opened it, imbedded in the yellow, 
powdery stuff, was something that glittered strangely. 
I shook the box, and out rolled a little gold coin. I 
carefully examined it, and immediately saw that it was 
an ancient Roman coin, for although one side was so 
blurred and worn with age that I could not decipher 
anything on it, the other side bore the name and head 
of Caesar within a circle of fine gold beading. 

‘‘ Something immediately told me that the coin be- 
longed to Tony, and that he had placed it there so I 
would find it, for, not long ago he lost something from 
his vest-pocket, — he keeps all of his treasures sewed up 
in that old vest. Danny had helped him look for it, — 
it had slipped out of a hole, — and after it had been 
found he came and told me about it, describing it as 
a little round piece of gold, the kind that you see, he 
said, up in the museum at Central Park. 


342 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ I made the plaster and carried it, with the coin, 
up to Tony, but before I put on the poultice I showed 
him the gold piece and asked if it was not his. But 
the little chap, with a bland and innocent expression, 
vowed that he had never seen it. No amount of coax- 
ing or persuasion could make him confess to the truth. 
You know that is the great trouble I have with Tony, 
he will tell teeny little stories/' Nathalie sighed dole- 
fully. 

Although I was sure that he didn’t have any colic, 
and tJ^STtfi^^whfcle thing was just a trick to get me to 
look in the mustard-box to find the coin, I put the 
plaster on, and made him stay in bed, thinking that 
when it got to burning that he would ‘ fess up.’ But 
he didn’t, and although he howled and writhed with 
the sting of it, — while I was reading him a lecture on 
the sin of lying, — I told the story of Ananias and 
Sapphira, — he stuck it out. Then, finally, my con- 
science wouldn’t let me torture the boy any longer, 
and I took the plaster off. That night while he was 
asleep I found his old vest, and after putting the coin 
in the pocket, sewed it up.” 

After the girls had laughed over the incident, Na- 
thalie started homeward, her mind full of dismal fore- 
bodings in regard to Philip. “ Oh, I wish I could 
prove in some way that he is not an impostor. But 
suppose he should be? ” The girl came to a sudden 
halt. Then, with her eyes full of a strange bright 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 343 

light, she went on. No, she just knew that Philip was 
good and true. 

“ But I must do something, she half moaned. 
“ For how dreadfully he will feel if he thinks that 
people believe him a thief ; and he will soon know some- 
thing is wrong, when all the girls stop taking lessons. 
But Nita and I will have to pretend that the season is 
drawing to a close, — as it is. But, O dear! he does 
need the money so much. And Janet, — how it will 
hurt her, for I am sure she cares — the girl halted 
at the thought, for it seemed too sacred a thing even to 
whisper to herself. Then she was busy again, trying 
to think how she could prove that her friend was what 
he claimed to be. 

As she unconsciously uttered her thoughts aloud, 
by some mysterious process of thought, or strange cor- 
relation between mind and matter, before her mental 
vision flashed the picture of a dark wood, lighted by 
gleams of moonlight that filtered through the tall 
tree-tops. In the foreground of a forest-gloomed re- 
treat, in front of a high rock, a man was digging in 
the ground, plainly seen by the yellow flickerings from 
a burning torch that had been stuck upright in the 
ground, a few feet away. 

Although the girl reasoned and tried to convince 
herself that there was no possible connection between 
that man and the thief at the hotel, she could not drive 
the impression from her mind. On going home she 


344 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


questioned Jean, and found that he, too, still vividly 
remembered the incident. 

That night Nathalie could not sleep, for she was 
haunted by the picture of the man in the woods, al- 
though she hurled every name she could think of at 
herself for being so foolish. The next night again 
found her sleepless, but when morning dawned, as if 
pursued and driven by the haunting vision, she called 
the boys together, and stated the circumstances to them. 
She did not tell her mother, as she would say that she 
was losing her reason, and, well, she was determined 
to find out — something. 

Early the following morning, before any one had 
gone through the woods, Nathalie and the boys met 
Nita at the Red Trail; she had been taken into their 
confidence, and accordingly was weirdly and thrillingly 
excited. They soon reached the seat-tree, and then, 
after locating the big rock, they all began to dig. 

They had dug for almost an hour, by Nita’s wrist- 
watch, and then, feeling tired, and on the verge of 
absolute despair, were talking about giving the whole 
thing up, when all at once Jean’s little terrier began to 
scratch in the ground on one side of the rock, and 
partly under it. Jean gave a queer little cry as he 
watched Tige, and the next moment had driven the 
dog away, and had begun to dig as furiously as he 
could with his one hand, in the place where the dog 
had been scratching up the earth. 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 345 

Nathalie watched him listlessly, for she had aban- 
doned all hope, and felt utterly weary, too, after her 
two sleepless nights. Suddenly Jean gave a loud 
shout, and then a moment later they had all rushed to 
his side, and presently were boring down into the earth 
under the rock as quickly as they could, to unearth in 
a few moments a gold chain. Nita gave a loud scream 
as she snatched it from Danny, for she immediately 
recognized it as belonging to an old lady at the hotel, 
who had been bemoaning its loss. A few moments’ 
digging, and then, with pale faces, in repressed excite- 
ment, they replaced the chain in the hole, covered it 
with dirt, so as to make it appear that the spot had 
not been disturbed, and then they started home, stop- 
ping to rest on the stone ledge of Liberty Fort, while 
discussing their discovery. It was enough to excite 
any one, and might mean a great deal to Philip. 

Nita was quite insistent at first that they should 
immediately tell the manager of the hotel what they 
had seen. But Nathalie demurred, convinced, on 
second thought, that if the jewelry was found hidden 
up in the woods, because Philip lived up on the moun- 
tain, every one would say that that was sure proof that 
he was the thief. “ No,” declared the girl deter- 
minedly, “ we can’t do that ; but we will have to come 
up here and watch for the man so we can identify 
him.” This plan was finally decided upon, and the 
little party, seething with suppressed excitement un- 


346 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


der the weight of their momentous secret, returned 
home. 

That night Nathalie, Danny, and Jean stole up the 
trail. Strange to say, it was again a moonlight night, 
the same as a month ago, when the man had been seen 
by Nathalie and Jean. After finding the seat-tree 
they all sat down and waited, alternately dozing and 
waking, but although they remained until the first 
streaks of gray dawn appeared, nothing happened. 

The following night, Jean — Nathalie had put the 
boy to bed for the day, letting her mother think that 
he had one of his headaches to which he was subject — 
and Tony accompanied the girl to the tree. But alas, 
for the second time nothing came to pass. Nathalie 
began to be discouraged. Fortunately it rained that 
night, and, as they could not venture out, they all had 
a good night’s rest. 

The fourth night again found the girl with the boys 
at her post, oppressed and miserable, for by this time 
she began to fear that the man in the woods was a 
snare and a delusion, — something she had dreamed, 
or else he had gone. But why did he leave that jew- 
elry behind ? — for the children had discovered that 
there were other pieces hidden in that hole, or very 
near it. 

All at once — Nathalie had fallen quite sound asleep 
— Jean gave her a pinch ; he was snuggling up against 
her, seated on her lap. The girl opened her eyes 


THE MAN IN THE WOODS 347 


sleepily, rubbed them drowsily, and then stretched them 
wide, caught by the gleam of a light over by the rock. 
Yes, the man was there! Her heart leaped excitedly, 
for he was digging under the rock, just where they 
had found the jewelry! 

With stilled breath, the three figures, hidden by the 
tree, watched him, Nathalie’s mind keeping up an in- 
cessant query as to how she could steal around behind 
the rock to get a view of his face. Ah, that queer 
shaking of the head! Who was it that she had seen 
who had that peculiar nervous affliction? And then, 
in a sudden revelation, she knew ! It was the man who 
had stared at her so rudely in the post-office, the man 
who had repaired her automobile. Why, it was the 
man known as the Count! 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 

S EVERAL hours later, Nathalie, Nita, Sheila, the 
three boys, and Mrs. Van Vorst were seated in 
that lady’s sitting-room on the second floor of 
the Sunset Hill House, overlooking the roof of the 
front veranda. Nathalie was nervously tapping the 
floor with her foot, as, with a perplexed, uneasy ex- 
pression in her eyes, she watched Mr. Grenoble, the 
secret-service man, who had been employed to fathom 
the strange mystery of the many jewelry thefts that 
had occurred at the hotel within the last few weeks. 

She had told her story, not only to the detective, but 
to the manager of the hotel, explaining how she had 
come to discover the man digging in the woods the 
night that Sheila had wandered away. She had told 
also how they had all dug under the rock, to find the 
pieces of missing jewelry, and how she and the boys 
had hid in the woods, and finally had seen the man 
again digging by the rock. She had verified her story 
in its details, and, although sharply questioned by the 
detective and the manager, she had stoutly maintained 
that the man whom she had seen was Mr. Keating, 
known as the Count. But her intuition immediately 
348 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


349 

revealed to her that they were not inclined to accept 
her theory as to the identification of the thief. 

The manager immediately protested that she must 
be mistaken, that his guest was too well known, his 
position too assured, to identify him in any way with 
the man at the rock. As the girl realized that her 
story was doubted, a strange numbness seized her, 
and she had a paralyzing premonition that not only 
would her well-founded suspicions prove futile, as well 
as her long, watchful hours, and her many efforts to 
clear Philip, but that possibly these things would in- 
crease the circumstantial suspicions already directed 
towards him. 

Seeing the apparent uselessness of further conversa- 
tion the girl rose, oppressed by the dread that if she 
remained in that room a moment longer she would 
burst into tears. But no, she would not give up! 
She would go somewhere and think it all over, to see 
if there was not some way of ascertaining who the 
man was. Perhaps she could go again to the woods, — 
she would try and get behind that rock, — and make 
sure — 

At this moment Sheila, who was standing with Jean 
by the window, watching the automobiles constantly 
coming and going in front of the hotel, uttered a sharp 
cry. As Nathalie turned towards the child as if to 
still her, she heard her exclaim: “Oh, Jean, there’s 
the funny ’phone man ! See, there he is ! Don’t you 


350 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


remember, he’s the man who put the black trumpet 
on top of his head when he was in the ’phone-box? ” 
Sheila always called the receiver a black trumpet.” 

Nathalie, aroused by the remark, mechanically 
allowed her glance to follow the direction of the 
child’s finger, as she pointed towards Mr. Keating, who 
was coming up the walk leading to the hotel. Uncon- 
sciously she bent forward, and with alert eyes watched 
the man, for she had again seen that peculiar motion 
of the head that had identified him as the man whom 
she had seen digging in the woods. 

But Sheila’s exclamation had been overheard by the 
detective, who stepped quickly to the child’s side, cry- 
ing : ‘‘ What was that you said, little girl, about a 

funny ’phone man? Tell me about him.” 

The man’s manner was so abrupt and commanding, 
that Sheila shrank back against Nathalie, and shyly 
hid her face. But the girl, startled also by Mr. Gre- 
noble’s abruptness, with quick glance at his face, 
cried, “ Yes, Sheila, tell the gentleman what you saw.” 
Oh, yes, she remembered now that the two children 
had told her about this “ funny ’phone man ” whom 
they had seen at the hotel one day, but she had paid no 
attention to their prattle at the time. 

Sheila, with a quick upward glance into the girl’s 
face, as if instantly divining the seriousness of the 
situation, answered, “ Why, that’s the man I saw in 
the ’phone-box,” again pointing towards the Count, 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


351 


who had stopped to chat with a lady on the walk. 
‘‘ He put the black trumpet right up on top of his head, 
like this,” — she imitated the man’s motion, — “ when 
he was talking through the ’phone.” 

“Did you see him, too?” questioned the detective, 
turning towards Jean, his eyes suddenly illumined with 
an odd gleam. Jean nodded silently, and then, seeing 
that further confirmation was needed, in his odd> 
hesitating English, repeated the same words, accom- 
panied by the same motion, as the little girl. 

The detective nodded absently, still with that odd 
gleam in his eyes, and then walked hastily towards the 
door. As he reached it, as if suddenly remembering 
their former conversation, he turned towards the oc- 
cupants of the room and, with slow deliberation, said, 
“Well, ladies, I think our problem is still unsolved; 
however, I will look into the matter and let you know 
the result in a few days.” With an abrupt nod he 
motioned to the manager, whose kindly face was 
strangely perturbed, as he quickly followed him from 
the room. 

Nathalie and the children, a few mornings after the 
conference at the Sunset Hill House, were standing in 
front of the big white Roslinwood barn watching 
Teddy and Billy, two little black pigs that were the 
delight of Sheila’s heart. But they were tantalizing 
joys, for as soon as they caught sight of their ad- 
mirer, as they peered out of the big barn-door, with 


352 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


their bright, bead-like eyes, they would scurry away 
as quickly as their round, shiny black bodies would 
permit, greatly to that young lady’s disappointment. 

As Sheila ran to gather a roadside nosegay, and the 
boys hurried homeward, for Philip had promised to 
teach them some new military tactics in their soldier- 
drill at the Liberty Fort, Nathalie, beguiled by the calm 
stillness of the woods, sat down on the seat under 
the trees where the sign, “ Hit the Trail,” showed that 
was where the path started that led through Lovers’ 
Lane. 

The woods, aglow with the yellow and reds of the 
maples, were strangely still that beautiful September 
morning, save for the occasional chirp of some be- 
lated songster, or the loud caw of a crow as he sig- 
naled to his mates, who were making a noisy clatter 
in some leafy retreat of the greenwood. 

To Nathalie, the crimson branches of the reddening 
maples, showing vividly bright from among the green 
leaves of the spruce, fir, oak, or beech, softened with 
the glow from the silver poplars as they quivered in 
the wind, seemed like red banners. As they swayed in 
undulating motion, to her they were flags, curling and 
beating the air for that which is every man’s right, 
liberty. 

The girl felt a little depressed at the thought that 
the summer was over, for the crumpled and autumn- 
hued leaves, as they fell from the trees, or swept by on 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


353 


the wings of the wind in their dying splendor, seemed 
to be calling a sad and mournful farewell. Oh, how 
she would hate to leave these rocky heights that rose 
in such statuesque grandeur before her, the splendors 
of the sky with its glory of sunset, the forest gnomes 
in their crooked and gnarled ugliness, and the green 
fields, now starred with the yellow beauty of our na- 
tional flower, the goldenrod! 

What an odd summer it had been! So different 
from what she had expected. How she would miss 
her beautiful companions on her morning walks, the 
blue-hazed mountains ! And yet she had made friends. 
Ah, there was the soldier-boy. She wondered if he 
would write to her. Then there was Janet. Well, 
she was never going to let her go out of her life, for 
she was to visit them next winter. 

Her eyes saddened as she thought of the Sweet-Pea 
ladies. Oh, how sorry she would be to bid them 
good-by, for Miss Whipple seemed to grow frailer 
every day, and then what would become of poor Miss 
Mona? And her queer little old friend in the red 
house? Well, she didn’t suppose that she would ever 
see her again, for she said that she never wrote to 
people. Yes, it was depressing to think that you had 
to meet people you liked, and then go away and just 
have to forget them, because they passed out of your 
life. 

And the kiddies? She hated to think of their go- 


354 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


ing back to that slum life again. She wondered if any 
of the country people up in the mountains would like 
to take them to live with them, for, yes, Tony and 
Danny could learn to be very useful. But poor Jean 
— and Sheila! Then she wondered if her trying to 
make them Sons of Liberty would help them to be 
good and honorable men. Sometimes it seemed as if 
she hadn’t accomplished much, and then again she 
could see how different they were from what they had 
been when they came to her. O dear ! they were prob- 
lems. 

And Philip de Brie ? Surely she had made a friend 
of him, at least he was more than a friend to Janet, 
who — the perverse thing! — was so careful not to let 
her know if she really cared for him or not. Perhaps 
it was on account of Cynthia, for she had overheard 
that young lady telling Janet that Philip was an im- 
postor, and that he had fooled her the way he had 
Nathalie Page and her mother. The story of his be- 
ing a British soldier, and that story, too, about his 
grandmother, was all folderol. 

And poor Janet had meekly made no reply to this 
tirade, but Nathalie, in imagination, saw the red mount 
into her cheeks, and knew how humiliated she felt. 
Well, he was better than that funny little Mr. Buddie 
anyway. She believed it was jmt jealousy on Cyn- 
thia’s part, for she herself had tried to be very nice 
to Philip, but somehow he didn’t seem to unde^rstand 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


355 


her,— no sensible person could, — and although he had 
always been very courteous to her, he had never made 
a friend of her. 

Well, she had done her best to clear him of the 
horrible suspicion that had lost him his pupils; but, 
alas, she seemed to have made the matter worse, or, 
at least, she had not done him any good, for when his 
cabin on the mountain had been burned one night, 
people had declared that he had set it afire himself to 
destroy evidences of his guilt. 

And then, when the manager of the hotel had the 
ground dug up, where she and the children had discov- 
ered those pieces of jewelry, nothing had been found. 
And Mr. Keating, alias the Count, had gone, called to 
Chicago, he claimed, the very night before they dug 
up around the rock, — the very night, too, that the 
cabin had been burned. No, Philip had not been ar- 
rested, for certainly the evidence was not strong 
enough to warrant such action. And then the detec- 
tive had disappeared, although Nathalie had a feeling 
at times that he was hanging around somewhere near 
the place, in disguise, perhaps, watching Philip. 

And the people who had been so nice to Philip, now 
acted very queerly whenever they saw him, and Philip, 
the poor fellow, had said nothing, although Nathalie 
was afraid that he suspected that something was 
wrong. Her mother had persuaded him to come down 
to Seven Pillars after the burning of the cabin, and 


356 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


although he had accepted their kind hospitality for 
the time being, he chafed under the favors showered 
upon him, and showed that he was inwardly suffering 
to have to be placed in such a position, for Janet said 
he resented charity. Yes, and ten days had passed, 
and Nathalie had not heard one word from the de- 
tective. O dear! the world was a queer place to live 
in, anyway. 

Just after luncheon, as Nathalie and her mother 
sat knitting on the veranda, a loud “ Honk! Honk! ” 
announced the arrival of Nita, who, with her cheeks 
red with excitement, burst upon the group like a young 
whirlwind. 

“ Oh, Blue Robin,’’ she cried, as she caught sight 
of Nathalie, “ I have the most wonderful news for 
you.” And then, without waiting to be questioned 
by her friend, who had risen to her feet in nervous 
expectancy, she added excitedly, Philip has been 
cleared ! ” 

“Oh, Nita, how do you know?” cried Nathalie, 
her face turning white, as she nervously clutched at 
her chair. 

“ The news came this morning from the detective, 
and the manager told mother. He said Mr. Grenoble 
got his clew from Sheila. You just come right here, 
little girl,” broke off Nita abruptly, as she beckoned 
for Sheila to come to her, “ so I can kiss you for a 
blessed dear.” She seized the somewhat astonished 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


357 


child and began to hug her with excited exuberance. 

“ But who is the thief ? ” exclaimed Nathalie breath- 
lessly. “ Oh, do tell us ! ” 

The thief? Why, Mr. Keating, the Count, of 
course,” laughed Nita gleefully; '‘and he was caught 
all through Sheila’s crying out about the funny ’phone 
man. When she spoke of the man in the booth placing 
the receiver on his head when telephoning, it gave 
Mr. Grenoble a big clew. It seems that the detective- 
bureau had been on the lookout for some time for a 
gentleman burglar who had the peculiar eccentricity 
of holding the receiver on the top of his head, as 
Sheila stated. He was born without any folds to his 
ears, — no, that isn’t the word ; I guess it was ganglion 
cells. No, that isn’t right — Well, anyway he had 
something the matter with his auditory nerve, so that 
his hearing was defective. By placing the receiver 
on the top of his head, as he had very good bone- 
conduction, — yes, that’s right, — he could hear better. 

" As soon as the detective heard what Sheila said 
he began to shadow our friend, the Count. He saw 
him do the same thing that Sheila told about, and that, 
with certain other clews, led to his arrest. He was 
not the Mr. Keating from Chicago that he claimed to 
be, whom the manager asserted had spent a summer 
at the hotel two years ago. That gentleman died this 
spring, and this ' count ’ fellow impersonated him, so 
as to gain a social standing in the hotel. 


358 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ The manager now admits that at times he had been 
puzzled by certain changes in Mr. Keating’s appear- 
ance, but he attributed it to the fact that he was older, 
and was now clean-shaven, when two years ago he 
wore a mustache. The detective thinks that the 
Count burned the cabin up in the woods so as to deepen 
the suspicion already fostered in regard to Philip.” 

“ But he got away with the jewelry,” exclaimed that 
young gentleman, who, with Janet, had just stepped up 
to the edge of the veranda, while Nita had been talking. 

‘‘ But he did not get far,” rejoined Nita, “ for when 
he walked into the New York station a few days ago, 
— that was just a ruse, talking about being called to 
Chicago, — he simply walked into the net that the 
detectives had spread for him, and he is now in jail.” 

“ I saw that the detective doubted my story,” re- 
marked Nathalie, “ and it made me feel unpleasant. 
But, oh, I am so glad the thief has been caught — 
and — ” 

That Philip is cleared,” interrupted that young 
man. “ Yes, Miss Nathalie, you have added to the 
store of kind things that you have done for me. But 
wait,” Philip’s eyes glowed, “some day, — well, per- 
haps I can repay every one. And little Blue Robin,” 
he continued, laughingly, “ I knew that I was the sus- 
pected one, although you were all so careful not to let 
anything slip out that would tell me, so as to save my 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


359 

sensitiveness, but as I was innocent I knew that things 
would clear up somehow.” 

And then he and Janet returned to their seats under 
the trees, where Philip had been reading to her, while 
Nathalie, with a glad light in her eyes, continued to 
discuss the many details of the affair. As Nita rose 
to go she suddenly exclaimed : “ Oh, there, I forgot 

to tell you that we are going home in a couple of days. 
Mother is anxious to get back to the city.” 

“ Oh, I shall miss you terribly,” cried her friend, as 
she placed her arm affectionately around the little 
hunchback; “but then I presume we shall be going 
soon ourselves. But, Nita,” she added abruptly, “ I 
came very near forgetting to tell you that we have all 
handed our diaries to Mr. Banker, and I am so glad 
that irksome task is over, for I hated to have to write 
in it every day. We are to meet Mr. Banker in the 
mystery-room to-morrow afternoon. It all sounds 
very thrilling, doesn’t it? We are all very curious 
to know what is hidden there.” 

“ Oh, I am just dying to know, too,” cried Nita. 

“ Well, come over to tea to-morrow, and then per- 
haps the mystery will be a mystery no longer.” 

“ But have you selected the valuable thing? ” asked 
the girl laughingly, after she assured her friend that 
she would surely accept her invitation. 

“ Why, no, not as yet,” returned Nathalie, “ for I 


36 o 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


am swayed by two loves. But it is all nonsense any- 
way, so I don’t think it will make much difference 
what any of us select. Cynthia will probably win the 
prize, as the kiddies say, for she has chosen a very 
valuable painting. Janet has selected a most curious 
thing, — a necklace. It came from China, and has a 
series or chain of heads; they say every one is a like- 
ness of some old mummified mandarin. When you 
touch a spring — Janet didn’t know this until mother 
showed it to her, for she saw this necklace years ago, 
when Mrs. Renwick brought it home with her from 
one of her Oriental trips — each one of these mummi- 
fied Chinamen sticks out his tongue.” 

Well, good-by until to-morrow,” cried Nita, and 
then she was in her car and a moment later went 
whizzing along the road towards Sugar Hill village. 

Nathalie had just finished putting her boys through 
their morning drill the following day, and seen them 
hurry away with Janet to do some weeding and hoe- 
ing for her in her garden, when she was joined 
by Philip. As he finished telling her a bit of war 
news, — she was industriously trying to finish a 
sweater for Dick, — his glance was arrested by the lit- 
tle Bible lying on the chair by her side, for Nathalie 
had continued her Scripture readings to the children. 

Picking the book up, he began to turn over its leaves 
carelessly, almost mechanically, as if his mind was oc- 
cupied with some other matter, when suddenly Nathalie 


A MYSTERY SOLVED 


361 


heard a surprised exclamation, and looked up to see 
Philip staring at the fly-leaf of the Bible, with an odd, 
curious expression on his face. 

'‘Where did you get this Bible?'’ he asked hur- 
riedly, turning towards the girl. 

“ In one of the upper rooms of the house. I think 
it must have belonged to Mrs. Renwick’s son, Philip. 
Why, your name is Philip, too,” she cried smilingly. 
“ Why, I never thought of that before.” 

“ Yes, my name is Philip, and this Bible belonged to 
my father — ” 

“Your father?” repeated the dazed girl. But be- 
fore Philip could answer her, in a quick revelation she 
cried, “ Why, is your name Renwick? ” staring at him 
with wide-open eyes. 

“ Yes, Philip de Brie Renwick.” 

“ And Mrs. Renwick, who used to live here? ” 

“ Was my grandmother! ” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 

A S Nathalie sat in dazed surprise upon hearing 
Philip’s announcement, he went on and told her 
of the early life of his father, of his going to 
Europe, of his marriage with Marie de Brie, a French 
girl, of his return to America, and of his subsequent 
quarrel with his mother, who had refused to receive his 
wife, a story that the girl had already heard, but not 
in detail, from Mrs. Page. 

When his father left his grandmother, Philip stated, 
he was in a mood of mingled anger and humiliation, 
while his heart had been deeply seared with disillu- 
sioned love. He could not realize that the mother who 
had made him her idol, the mother whom he adored, 
could, from mere motives of false pride, wound him so 
deeply by refusing to receive the girl to whom he had 
given the affections of his young manhood. 

On leaving his mother, Philip Renwick had remained 
at the hotel for a time, vainly hoping that she would 
attempt a reconcilation, but when no word came from 
her, he took his wife to a southern town, where, a few 
362 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 363 


months later, he, Philip the second, had been born. A 
couple of years later the young couple had returned 
to England, where they had lived until his father’s 
death. Shortly after losing her husband, young Mrs. 
Renwick had returned to France, and had become the 
home-keeper for a bachelor brother. On his death she 
was left a small annuity on the condition that she re- 
tain her maiden name of de Brie; hence the reason that 
Philip had become known by his mother’s maiden 
name. 

“ But did you know that it was here, at Seven Pil- 
lars, that your grandmother used to live? ” asked Na- 
thalie, as Philip finished. 

Yes, and that was why I felt that I could not re- 
fuse your mother’s kind invitation to spend a short 
time here as her guest, for the house had so many asso- 
ciations for me, for my father, as well as my grand- 
mother, were very fond of this old place up here in 
these mountains. 

“ The night you found me in the cabin, Miss Natha- 
lie,” resumed the young man, ‘‘ I had become tired of 
life, for it seemed as if there was nothing for me to 
live for, for I hadn’t enough ambition to try to better 
my condition. I could only face the fact that mother 
was gone, that I had not a cent in the world, as my 
mother’s annuity ceased with her life, and my soldier’s 
pension was only a few dollars a week. I realized that 
I would probably lose my arm, for I knew that it 


364 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


should have a surgeon’s care and I had no money to pay 
one. And it is right here, Miss Nathalie, that I want 
you to understand my deep appreciation of, and my 
hearty thanks for, what you have done for me ; also the 
kindness of Miss Janet,” a sudden light flamed in the 
young man’s eyes, “ and the thoughtfulness of your 
mother, and your friends, Mrs. Van Vorst and Miss 
Nita. 

“ The companionship of you all, even of the kiddies, 
your Liberty boys, has put new life into me. I did be- 
come a little discouraged, it is true, when I began to 
lose my French pupils, and surmised the reason, from 
various hints that were dropped by some of the people, 
who were the victims of the thief, for it is not an en- 
livening thought to fear that your only and very best 
friends might grow to think you a rascal. 

‘‘ But you all proved so true to me, especially you, 
little Blue Robin, I call you that name, as the bluebird 
is a bird of cheer, and certainly you have inspired me 
with the ambition for a new career-to-be, as you have 
proved yourself such a loyal little comrade in my time 
of need. Remember, Nathalie, I shall never forget 
you, or what you have done for me.” 

Nathalie, her face a wave of color from the unex- 
pected warmth of Philip’s praise, in hasty confusion, as 
if to change the subject to another one than herself, 
cried, “ But why did you not go, when you were in 
Boston, to Mrs. Renwick’s trustees, and make your- 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 365 

self known to them? For, if you are her grandson, 
you are entitled to some of her money.” 

For two reasons,” replied Philip slowly. One 
was that, in my hasty departure from England it 
slipped my mind to bring my credentials with me. 
And then, again, — perhaps my grandmother’s pride 
has descended to me, — I felt that if she did not love 
my father, — she had let him go so easily, — that I 
could have pride, too, and did not care to accept her 
money. If I could have met her when alive, and had 
learned that she did have some love for my father, 
why, then I would have revealed myself to her, and 
naturally would have felt differently in regard to ac- 
cepting her money. But I have one thing by which I 
could have proved my identity to her if she had been 
still alive. See, it is this little ring. She gave it to my 
father, who always wore it, as I have done, ever since 
it came into my possession.” 

Philip took from one of his little fingers an odd, 
peculiar-looking seal ring. After showing his father’s 
and his grandmother’s initials and the date of its pres- 
entation, he touched a tiny spring back of the stone, 
and Nathalie saw a miniature picture of Mrs. Ren- 
wick. She knew it immediately from its resemblance 
to several pictures of her that were scattered about the 
house. 

At this moment there was a loud wail from Sheila, 
who, in picking flowers in the meadow where Sam was 


366 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


mowing, had been injured by the mower. It was some 
time before her cries were stilled, and her wound prop- 
erly bandaged, so that, for the time being, the won- 
derful news that Philip had told was forgotten. 

When it finally came to mind, Nathalie was tempted 
to run and claim him as her cousin, to tell him about 
Mrs. Renwick’s peculiar letter, and what was expected 
to take place there that afternoon. But after some 
thought she wisely concluded to remain silent until 
after she had talked with Mr. Banker and her mother. 
Not but that she had faith in Philip’s story, but be- 
cause it seemed the most prudent thing to do. 

These thoughts were hasty ones, for the girl had sud- 
denly remembered that she had not selected the valu- 
able thing as yet, and that it was almost four o’clock, 
the hour of Mr. Banker’s arrival. She had partly de- 
cided to select a set of rubies, — a necklace and pair of 
bracelets, — and then a Russian curio had made its ap- 
peal, but somehow she bordered upon a state of inde- 
cision that was becoming intolerable. 

As she turned to enter the house, her eyes fell on the 
little Bible that, in her hasty rush to Sheila, when she 
appeared with her bleeding foot, she had left lying on 
the chair under the trees. She ran hastily across the 
lawn and picked it up. As she did so, the book flew 
open, and her attention was arrested by the name, 
Philip Renwick, on the fly-leaf, and its connection with 
what Philip had just told her. And then, she stood a 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 367 

minute, pondering. Why had not she thought of that 
before? and then, with a dimpling face, she closed the 
book and hurried back to the veranda, almost knocking 
down Tony, who stood wistfully regarding her. 

“ Pleass, scusa, Mees Natta, haf you gotta da theeng 
for de preez ? — Mister Banka, hees com’ bimeby to 
looka for eet.” Tony’s big, velvety eyes were mutely 
pleading as he looked up at Nathalie. 

The girl laughingly mimicked the boy as she patted 
him on the head, understanding that he was worried 
because she had not selected the thing that the children 
were so anxious should win the prize,” as they called 
it, for her. Then her eyes sobered, and, drawing the 
little lad to her, she showed him the Bible she held in 
her hand, explaining that she had selected it, as it told 
about Christ the Savior, and contained God’s wonder- 
ful message to His people, telling them how to love Him 
and be good. ‘‘ Yes, Tony,” she added solemnly, the 
Bible is the most precious thing to everybody in the 
world. And then, as this little Bible used to belong 
to Mrs. Renwick’s only son, I am sure that it would be 
the most valuable thing to her, so I am going to select 
it.” 

As the girl saw the child’s eyes light up, as if he com- 
prehended what she meant, she laid the Bible on a chair 
and ran hastily up to her room to hunt for some white 
paper and blue ribbon. In a moment or so she was 
back, wrapping up the book, and then, to Tony’s in- 


368 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


finite delight, she slipped her card under the blue rib- 
bon and gave the book to him, to place at the door of 
the mystery-room with the other packages. 

Some time later, Nathalie, in company with her 
mother, Janet, Cynthia, and Mr. Banker, entered the 
mystery-room, no one perceiving as they entered that 
the children had slyly followed them, and were star- 
ing about with wondering, curious eyes. Ah, so this 
was the room they had all been so curious about ; and 
Nathalie smiled as she saw that it was a homey, cozy 
room, suggestive of feminine tastes and occupations, 
but, after all, it was just nothing but Mrs. Renwick’s 
sitting-room, the room where she had sewed, read, and 
wrote her letters. 

The low book-cases lining the wall, the hardwood 
floor with its costly Persian rug, the open fireplace set 
with fagots ready to light on a cool morning, the desk 
in one corner, with the Victrola near, and the antique 
furniture, all of solid mahogany, certainly did not 
savor of a mystery or anything uncanny. In fact, the 
little table in the center of the room, with its shaded 
lamp, books, and magazines, and the little upright 
work-basket near, rather intimated that the owner of 
the room had just left it for a moment or so. 

But Mr. Banker was speaking. He stood by the lit- 
tle center-table on which lay the three valuable things. 
Pie held. up Cynthia’s selection as he said: ‘'I have 
here' a picture, a most valuable painting, as it is a Van 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 369 


Dyke. It has been selected by Miss Cynthia Loretto 
Stillwell, as I see by the name on the card. This little 
box bears the name of Miss Janet Page, and is a curio 
from China. And here is a Bible,” the gentleman’s 
voice deepened as he held up Nathalie’s selection. The 
girl’s heart, notwithstanding her indifference to the out- 
come of the selection, was beating against her side in a 
very annoying way. 

‘‘ It is a curious selection,” continued Mr. Banker, 
“and — oh, what is this?” as something round and 
glittering fell from the book. “ A gold coin,” he com- 
mented with some surprise ; “ yes, a Roman coin, for it 
bears the head of Caesar, and I should imagine,” he 
turned the coin over as it lay in his palm, “ that it was 
of considerable value, as, from what I can decipher 
between the obliterations, it has a very ancient date. 
But I do not understand,” he glanced up inquiringly, 
“ which is the article that has been selected as the val- 
uable thing, the coin or the Bible? The card on the 
letter bears the name of Nathalie Page,” turning, as he 
spoke, and looking at the girl, who was staring at him 
with mystified, bewildered eyes. “ A coin ! ” she fi- 
nally managed to gasp. “ Why, I didn’t see — ” 

“ Pleass ’scusa, Mister Banka,” cried Tony’s soft, 
musical voice at this point, “ da coin eet belona to Mees 
Natta, — she fina eet wan day een a box.” The liquid 
black eyes of the boy were brilliant with a strange glow 
of joy. 


370 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


Oh, no, Tonio, the coin is not Miss Natta’s,” cried 
Nathalie, a sudden light breaking in upon her bewilder- 
ment. “ It is your coin. Don’t you remember, I 
found it in the mustard-box the day you were ill ? But 
it is yours, Tony ; you placed it there for Miss Natta to 
find.” The girl, strangely amused, smiled down at the 
lad. 

“ You bet my life, Mees Natta, Tonio, no, hees neva 
hada coin. Eet verra old, da coin, eet com’ f’om a 
beeg keeng wat liva een da Roma Ian’. Ees belonga to 
Mees Natta,” the boy ended persistently. 

“ Oh, Tony, you are in the wrong,” pleaded the girl, 
suddenly feeling that she wanted to cry, as she saw that 
the child was determined to persist in his untruth. 

You know it is your coin, for Danny found it one 
day for you when it had dropped from your embroid- 
ered vest. Didn’t you, Danny ? ” 

And Danny, with a troubled look in his blue eyes, — 
he, too, wanted Miss Natta to have that prize, — mutely 
nodded in confirmation of her word. But Tony, with 
a sudden tightening of his red lips, again protested in 
a sullen tone, No, eet ees no Tonio’s coin. Eet be- 
lona to Mees Natta.” 

“ Oh, Tony,” exclaimed the girl, as the tears swelled 
up into her eyes, you hurt ‘ Mees Natta.’ ‘ Mees 
Natta ’ rather not have the prize than have Tonio tell 
what is not so.” 

Tony’s eyes fell, as he shifted uneasily from one foot 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 371 


to the other, and then, glancing up, still with that stub- 
born look on his face, and seeing the tears in the girl’s 
eyes, he dropped his face into the curve of his arm. 
Not a sound came from him, but the long, convulsive 
shivers of the slim little body told that the lad was 
crying. 

Nathalie turned towards Mr. Banker, distress de- 
picted on her face, as she cried, Oh, Mr. Banker, I 
am so sorry, but I selected the Bible.” 

Mr. Banker hesitated a moment, and then his sharp 
eyes softened, as he saw the mute anguish of the little 
Italian lad and realized his keen disappointment, for 
he had often commented upon the boy’s affection for 
the girl. Stepping to his side, he patted him on the 
head, as he said cheerily: “Never mind, son; don’t 
cry. Who knows, perhaps ‘ Mees Natta ’ may win the 
prize, as you call it, even without the coin. Here, lad, 
take what belongs to you, and mind you,” he added in 
a sterner tone, “ never again be tempted to tell an un- 
truth, even for ' Mees Natta.’ ” With another pat on 
the bowed head he stepped back beside the table, where 
he had been standing. 

“ I have gone over these diaries,” said the gentle- 
man, as he picked up one of the three books that lay on 
the table, “ and I find that Miss Cynthia Loretto Still- 
well has not passed a day in this house, within the last 
two months in which she has not searched for the val- 
uable thing. Certainly her diligence should be re- 


372 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


warded,” ended the gentleman, as he bowed ceremoni- 
ously to that lady, whose eyes radiated with triumphant 
joy. 

“ Miss Janet, I find,” his eyes gleamed pleasantly at 
that winsome young woman, has been somewhat of a 
delinquent at times, for there are several entries miss- 
ing in her diary. But as its reading shows that her 
heart is a kindly one, as shown by her careful nursing 
of the young British soldier, I certainly think that she 
should be well favored. 

” Miss Nathalie, I am afraid, has not done her duty 
as faithfully as she might have, in looking for the val- 
uable thing ” ; he spoke somewhat severely as he peered 
over his glasses at the girl, whose cheeks flushed, their 
red deepening, as she caught a gleam of satisfaction 
emanating from Cynthia’s eyes. 

“ But her negligence has been more than compen- 
sated for,” — there was a queer note in the gentleman’s 
voice, as this record of two months is so filled with 
kind acts for others, that — Well, ladies, possibly 
you have begun to sense that it is not the finding of the 
valuable thing that is to win out, but the acts it typifies. 
Each day has been conscientiously noted in Miss Na- 
thalie’s diary, and almost every day bears a record of 
some good work done for others. I think — well — I 
am inclined to believe that the young lady — ” 

Mr. Banker paused abruptly, for at this moment a 
loud knocking sounded on the door. Cynthia, who 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 373 

was standing near it, with a frown on her face, stepped 
impatiently forward, and with a hasty movement threw 
it open. 

On the threshold stood Mrs. Carney, who, the next 
moment, with her sharp gray eyes peering defiantly out 
from under the queer poke-bonnet, while the basket on 
her arm stuck out aggressively, brushed quickly past 
Cynthia and into the room. But that lady, with two 
red spots on her cheeks, seized her by the arm, crying, 
“ You can’t come in here now ; we have company,” 
turning the old lady, as she spoke, and roughly shov- 
ing her towards the door. 

“ Oh, Cynthia, don’t be rude to Mrs. Carney ! ” 
pleaded distressed Nathalie, as she sprang to the side 
of her queer little friend. ‘‘ How are you, Mrs. Car- 
ney ? ” she asked gently, smiling at the face under the 
bonnet. *‘We are very glad to see you. You don’t 
mind Mrs. Carney joining us, do you? ” continued the 
girl, looking at Mr. Banker. ‘‘ If you do,” she added 
quickly, “ and will excuse me, I will go down-stairs 
with her, so we can have a little chat.” 

“ No, Miss Nathalie, we do not mind Mrs. Carney 
joining us; in fact,” again that queer little note in Mr. 
Banker’s voice, ‘‘ I was just about to ask you to go and 
bring her here.” He advanced as he spoke and cor- 
dially shook the hand of the old lady, who pressed his 
warmly, but said nothing. 

‘‘ Ah, here is your favorite seat,” continued the gen- 


374 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


tleman ; “ perhaps you would like to sit down in it. 
But I forgot, ladies; perhaps you have not met Mrs. 
John Renwick,” he had turned towards the occupants 
of the room smilingly, “ the lady who has allowed you 
the privilege of summering in her house for the last 
two months, your neighbor of the little red house. As 
you see, Mrs. Renwick is alive, and I will ask her to 
take charge of her own letter of instruction, and see 
that the reward is given to the right one — and — ” 
The gentleman paused, for Mrs. Page, with a glad 
light in her eyes, was already at the lady’s side, crying, 
“ Oh, sister Mary, it was kind of you to take this way 
of giving us such a lovely summer. And I am so glad 
that you are alive and well.” She kissed Mrs. Ren- 
wick with warm cordiality. Do you know,” she con- 
tinued smilingly, “ I was rather suspicions that you 
were up to one of your — ” 

“ Eccentricities,” interrupted the old lady pleasantly, 
with an odd twinkle in her eyes. “ Well, I was 
anxious to know these young ladies. Yes, I guess I 
know them now, one of them at least.” She glanced 
wrath fully at Cynthia, who stood with down-cast eyes, 
her face as crimson as a poppy, and her heart in a 
strange tumult of amazement, anger, and regret. 

But Nathalie, in her quick, impulsive way, had 
thrown her arms around Mrs. Renwick’s neck and was 
giving her a good hug, as she cried, “ Oh ! my dear 
little lady of the red house, I am so glad you are Aunt 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 375 

Mary, for now you will have to be my friend, and an- 
swer my letters whether you want to or not.’’ 

The old lady’s gray eyes softened, as she bent for- 
ward and kissed the girl softly on each cheek as she an- 
swered gently, “ Nathalie, you are just like your father, 
— he was my favorite brother, — but it is for yourself, 
child,” she added gravely, “ that I have learned to love 
you. But who has won the prize ? ” she inquired 
abruptly, smiling down at the children who were star- 
ing at her uncomprehendingly, recognizing her as the 
inmate of the red house, who seemed to have suddenly 
assumed a new character. 

‘‘ Come over here and look them over, — I mean the 
valuable things,” advised Mr. Banker, at this moment, 
as he led Mrs. Renwick to the table, “ for the diaries 
you saw last night.” And then he pointed out in quick 
succession the three articles of value that were grouped 
on the table. 

Mrs. Renwick glanced carelessly at the picture. 
“ Yes^ it is most valuable,” she assented quietly, a 
Van Dyke. And so is this ” ; she fingered Janet’s 
choice. But what is this ? ” she added suddenly, as 
her eyes fell on the little Bible that lay at her elbow. 

“ This is Philip’s Bible,” said the gentleman, ‘‘ and 
it was selected by Miss Nathalie — ” 

‘‘ Why, Nathalie, my child, did you select my dear 
son’s Bible?” As Nathalie mutely assented, Mrs. 
Renwick motioned for her to come and tell her why she 


376 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

had made this choice. With some embarrassment the 
girl gave her reasons. As she finished, her aunt said : 
‘‘ Yes, my dear child, there is nothing in the house I 
value as highly as Philip’s Bible. Nathalie, you have 
won the prize, and you deserve it, my dear, for you 
have not only selected the most valuable thing, but you 
have learned what is the most valuable thing in life.” 
The old lady drew Nathalie close to her, as she again 
kissed her on both of her flushed cheeks. 

But Nathalie, drew quickly away, for a sudden 
thought had come to her. “ Oh, wait a moment ! ” she 
exclaimed hurriedly. I’ll be back presently,” and 
then, without waiting to be excused, she flew from the 
room. 

Oh, Philip ! ” screamed the girl a moment or so 
later, as she rushed up to her friend, who was read- 
ing in the hammock, “ I want you to come with me — 
quick ! Oh — I — ” she paused as if at a loss to ex- 
plain, and then added hurriedly, “ Oh, do come ! I 
have something to show you ! ” 

Philip looked up at the girl in surprise, but, instantly 
perceiving from her bright, shining eyes, that she was 
more than usually excited, he jumped from the ham- 
mock crying, “All right. Blue Robin, you look very 
happy, so I suppose it is something very good to see, 
or good to eat.” 

Two minutes later the girl had pushed open the door 
of the mystery-room, and was trying to pull Philip in 



“Oh, it is Philip, my son! ” 


Page 377 




THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 377 


with her, but that gentleman, on seeing that strangers 
were present, had stepped back. 

‘‘ No, no, you must come in” cried the girl in happy 
excitement. The young man, seeing the determination 
on his companion’s face, somewhat puzzled, silently fol- 
lowed her into the room. And then Nathalie swirled 
him about so that he faced Mr. Banker, crying, “ Mr. 
Banker, this is Philip de Brie Renwick ! ” And then, 
without waiting for that gentleman to acknowledge the 
introduction, she took Philip’s hand and led him to- 
wards Mrs. Renwick, who, as she saw the young man 
approaching, tremblingly arose, and, with clasped 
hands, cried, “ Oh, it is Philip, my son ! ” 

No, it is not Philip, your son,” quickly answered 
the young man, who had instantly divined who the old 
lady was, “ but Philip’s son, your grandson, Philip de 
Brie Renwick.” 

The next moment Philip was holding the old lady in 
his arms, while he quietly tried to soothe her sobs, as 
she wept in happy joy on his breast. As her sobs sub- 
sided somewhat, Philip said gently, Mother Mine,” 
— it used to be his father’s pet name for his mother, — 
“ here is the ring you gave father when at college.” 
He drew the seal ring from his finger and held it up 
before his grandmother, who, with one look at it, cried. 

Yes, grandson, I know he has gone, for he promised 
me — ” there was a quiver in her voice — “ that the ring 
should never be removed until — ” she drew a deep 


378 THE LIBERTY GIRL 

breath that threatened to turn into a sob — ‘‘ until he 
was no more. But he has given me — you, his son. 
Oh, my dear boy, my own grandson ! ” 

Nathalie sat by her little sewing-table under the 
trees, gazing off at her grand old friends, the purple- 
misted mountains. It had seemed hard to do any- 
thing, this her last day at Seven Pillars, but gaze at the 
lofty heights that stood forth so calm and beautiful in 
their mystical splendor on this gloriously White Moun- 
tain day. But she must read over that letter to see if 
it was all right, so, in soft, low tone she read slowly, 

'' Dear Helen : 

“ I have such good news to tell you that I can hardly 
write, — for, oh, Helen ! the little old lady who lived in 
the red house is Mrs. Renwick, and Philip de Brie, the 
British soldier whom we found up in the cabin on the 
mountain, is her grandson ! And I have won the prize. 
No, of course, it is not really a prize, but the good-will 
and affectionate regard of Aunt Mary, because — well 
— I made her happy by selecting her son’s Bible as the 
most valuable thing in the house. And now I have 
dandy news to tell. She is going to send me to college. 
I have just lived in a dream ever since I heard the good 
news. Yes, and I have one hundred dollars for my 
very own, to do just as I like with — no restrictions, 
reparations, or indemnities, but just for wee little me. 
I think that blessed sum was given to me, because the 
boys, when told I had won the prize, could not under- 
stand anything as vague as going to college, but they 
did finger that crisp bank-note with eager, curious lit- 
tle fingers when I showed it to them. Sometimes I 


THE WINNER OF THE PRIZE 379 


feel a little guilty, for really Cynthia’s selection, a Van 
Dyke painting, was the most valuable from a certain 
point of view. 

And, oh, what I told you would happen about 
Philip and Janet is true, for they are engaged, and go 
about looking into each other’s eyes in a state of beatific 
happiness. Now she will be a grand lady, for she is to 
live with her new husband, and mother, in a beautiful 
mansion in Boston. And Cynthia. Well, Mrs. Ren- 
wick was quite angry with her, but finally, after mother 
and I had talked to her, and told her the disadvantages 
she labored under, and how she wanted to marry Mr. 
Buddie, why she partly relented, for she is to set Cyn- 
thia up in a studio in Boston, and try to get her friends 
to buy her pictures, for she insists that Cynthia is a real 
artist. 

“ And Mrs. Renwick : — mother says I must learn to 
call her Aunt Mary — wanted Sheila to live with her, 
and as there was no question of separating her from 
Danny, he goes to Boston with her and is to be edu- 
cated, and I know he will grow to be just a splendid 
man. Mrs. Van Vorst has taken another one of my 
kids, Tony. She has always been in love with those 
black eyes of his, and she insists that he is going to be 
a great musician. Then there was dear little Jean. 
Yes, he had to have something good come into his life, 
too, so mother and I have decided to take him to live 
with us. 

And now for another bit of news. I had a nice, 
long letter from the soldier-boy. Van Darrell, and isn’t 
it too funny, but that Blue Robin girl of his was just 
me all the time. Now for the fairy-tale part of my 
story. Do you remember my telling you about writing 
a letter to a soldier-boy, and slipping it into a comfort- 
kit that, with a lot of others, was to be given to the boys 
at Camp Mills ? 


3So 


THE LIBERTY GIRL 


“ Well, Van got it. He says that it set him to think- 
ing, and made him realize that we were not only going 
into this war of wars to get even with the Huns, but 
because it is our duty to give the liberty that we enjoy 
in our country to all the nations in the world. And 
he has been ordered overseas. Yes, and he says he’s 
going, ready to make the sacrifice if necessary, and to 
give his life that all men may be free. Oh, Fm so glad 
I wrote that letter, and to think it has done some one 
some good. Yes, and I’m going to pray as hard as I 
can that the soldier-boy will come back to his mother, 
and to his friend. Blue Robin. Yes, indeed, I am glad 
that he is not just a conceited boy, as I at one time 
feared. 

“ So good-by, you dear little maid, serving the Lord 
so faithfully with those busy fingers of yours. I think 
of you every day, and pray for you every night, so, 
with a bushel of love, I am, as ever, 

“ Your own 

‘‘ Blue Robin/' 


THE END 


DOROTHY BROWN 

By NINA RHOADES 

Illustrated by Elizabeth Withington Large 12mo 
Cloth $1.50 net 

“^HIS is considerably longer than theothe2 
books by this favorite writer, and with a 
more elaborate plot, but it has the same win- 
some quality throughout. It introduces the 
heroine in New York as a little girl of eight, 
but soon passes over six years and finds her at 
a select family boarding school in Connecticut. 
An important part of the story also takes place 
t at the Profile House in the White Mountains. 
The charm of school-girl friendship is finely 
brought out, and the kindness of heart, good 
sense and good taste which find constant ex- 
pression in the books by Miss Rhoades do not 
lack for characters to show these best of 
qualities by their lives. Other less admirable 
persons of course appear to furnish the alluring mystery, which is not 
all cleared up until the very last. 

“There will be no better book than this to put into the hands of a girl in 
her teens and none that will be better appreciated by her .” — Kennebec Journal 

MARION’S VACATION 

By NINA RHOADES 

Illustrated by Bertha Q. Davidson 12mo $1.25 net 

■^HIS book is for the older girls, Marion 
* being thirteen. She has for ten years 
enjoyed a luxurious home in New York with 
the kind lady who feels that the time has now 
come for this aristocratic though lovable little 
miss to know her own nearest kindred, who 
are humble but most excellent farming people 
in a pretty Vermont village. Thither Marion 
is sent for a summer, which proves to be a 
most important one to her in all its lessons. 

“ More wholesome reading for half grown girls 
it would be hard to find; some of the same lessons 
that proved so helpful in that classic of the last 
generation ‘An Old Fashioned Girl* are brought 
home to the youthful readers of this sweet and 
sensible story .” — Milwaukee Free Press. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.. Boston 

4 




JEAN CABOT SERIES 

By GERTRUDE FISHER SCOTT 

Illustrated by Arthur O. Scott 12mo Cloth 

Price, Net, $1.35 each 


JEAN CABOT AT ASHTON 

H ere is the “real thing” in a girl’s 
college story. Older authors can invent 
situations and supply excellently written 
general delineations of character, but all 
lack the vital touch of this work of a bright 
young recent graduate of a well-known 
college for women, who has lost none of the 
enthusiasm felt as a student. Every activity 
of a popular girl’s first year is woven into a 
narrative, photographic in its description of 
a life that calls into play most attractive 
qualities, while at the same time severely 
testing both character and ability. 

JEAN CABOT IN THE BRITISH ISLES 

T his is a college story, although dealing with a summer vacation, 
and full of college spirit. It begins with a Yale-Harvard boat 
race at New London, but soon Jean and her room-mate sail for Great 
Britain under the chaperonage of Miss Hooper, a favorite member of the 
faculty at Ashton College. Their trip is full of the delight that comes 
to the traveler first seeing the countries forming “our old home.” 

JEAN CABOT IN CAP AND GOWN 

J EAN CABOT is a superb young woman, physically and mentally, 
but thoroughly human and thus favored with many warm friend- 
ships. Her final year at Ashton College is the culmination of a 
course in which study, sport and exercise, and social matters have 
been well balanced. 

JEAN CABOT AT THE HOUSE WITH 
THE BLUE SHUTTERS 

S UCH a group as Jean and her most intimate friends could not 
scatter at once, as do most college companions after graduation, 
and six of them under the chaperonage of a married older graduate 
and member of the same sorority spend a most eventful summer in a 
historic farm-house in Maine. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt 
of price by the publishers 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. Boston 



HANDICRAFT FOR HANDY GIRLS 

By A. NEELY HALL 

Auttiorof "The Boy Craftsman.” “Handicraft for Handy Boys,” "The HandyBoy* 

AND DOROTHY PERKINS 

Illustrated with photographs and more than 700 diagrams 
and working drawings 
Price, Net, $2.00 Postpaid, $2.25 

HTH the aid of an experienced 
^ ^ craftswoman, A. Neely Hall, who is 
in a class by himself as a thoroughly re- 
liable teacher of handicraft, every opera- 
tion that he describes being first practically 
worked out by himself, and every working 
drawing presented being original, new, 
and actual, has opened the door for the 
great and constantly increasing number of 
girls who like to ^^rnake things.” Such 
girls see no reason why the joy of mechanical work should be 
restricted to their brothers, and with this book it need no longer 
be. The first part of the book is devoted to a great variety of in- 
door craft that can be followed in autumn and winter, while the 
second part, Spring and Summer Handicraft,” deals with many 
attractive forms of outdoor life, including an entire chapter on 
the activities of Camp Fire Girls.” 

“ This book will be hailed with delight by all girls who have a mechan- 
ical turn.” — Watchman- Examiner. 

** Girls will love just such a book and will find interest for every day of 
the year in it.” — St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 

“Triumphs of ingenuity never dreamed of are to be found in this volume 
of handicraft that girls can make, but its chief charm is to be found in the 
practical value of most of the things to be made .” — Lexington Herald. 

Par sale by all booksellers or seat postpaid oa receipt 
of price by the publishers 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. Boston 


8vo Cloth 



I 


BOOKS BY RENA I. HALSEY 

Illustrated Cloth $1.50 each 


BLUE ROBIN, THE GIRL PIONEER 

N athalie page is just such a gM of sixteen as one likes to 
read about. Obliged to exchange affluence in a large city for 
a modest home in a small one, she develops into capable young 
womanhood by becoming a member of The Girl Pioneers of 
America. 

“Any girl of a dozen years or more, or even less, will enjoy this thoroughly, and any- 
one, young or old, will be the better for having read it. ” — Pittsburgh Times-Gazette. 


AMERICA’S DAUGHTER 

T his is a rarely good and inspiring story of 
girls in a select school in Brooklyn who 
organize a club called “Daughters of Amer- 
ica,” and under the care of a well-liked 
teacher take a trip to points on the New 
England coast made famous in our history. 
One of the girls has been brought up without 
knowledge of her own family, and so is called 
“America’s Daughter.” In the course of 
the trip she unravels the mystery of her 
birth and all ends happily and profitably. 

“It is an inspiring story, well told and will be appreciated by girls who love an active, 
out of doors life.” — Daily Press, Portland, Me. 



THE LIBERTY GIRL 

N athalie page, seventeen, bright and popular with aU 
her mates, forms a club called the “Liberty Girls” and en- 
thusiastically does her bit to help win the war. A surprising 
invitation to the White Mountains takes her from organized 
activity with her companions, but a girl like Nathalie will not be 
idle wherever she goes, and in carrying out the principles of 
patriotic service she wins great and deserved credit. 


Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co, 


Boston 





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